


Invisible, Unlikely, Impossible

by berryboys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-23 20:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryboys/pseuds/berryboys
Summary: Witches aren’t weak, but Jeno’s weakness is Jaemin.





	1. The boy that grew up into a secret

**Author's Note:**

> *There aren't many trigger warnings, but there's a scene that includes an anxiety attack in the beginning.  
> *The fic is divided into two parts because the structure of the fic requires it, but I will post the second part soon.
> 
> Thank you pax for the commission, I hope you enjoy the fic ♡♡ your ideas are always amazing!!
> 
>  
> 
> [Commissions](https://twitter.com/renjucas/status/1013749339364249600)

 

XVI.

Jealousy is a complex, awful emotion.

It isn’t a small tingle of sadness, a night of crying, a day of acting crazy and punching someone in the face. For Jaemin, jealousy is much more different. It isn’t about realizing he has lost Jeno and that he’s in another person’s arms now. That feeling Jaemin has experienced a dozen of times – a hundred, a thousand – wasn’t jealousy: it was egoism, narcissism, even lack of self-esteem during his teenage years all in the same box.

So it’s ironical that Jaemin, after nineteen years of walking on this earth, has discovered what jealousy is at last. It’s the urge of vomiting when his eyes fall on Jeno across Yukhei’s house, on Jeno’s beautiful smile and the way his eyelashes flutter when he closes his eyes, melting against Yukhei’s mouth. Jaemin feels so, so bad, like the world is spinning too fast and he’s standing still, like he’s about to be launched into space and his organs will shrink because he’s stuck in place.

His ears become numb to the music of the party, and when he swings around for help, he can’t see anything, white spots blurring the whole scenario. But someone holds him, talks to him, and Jaemin manages to breathe again on his own. When the world moves beneath his feet again, this time isn’t a hallucination due to his dizziness: he’s being carried away.

Five minutes later Jaemin finds himself hugging a toilet, waves of nausea shooting through his body and tears streaming down his face, and he thinks _oh, this is it, this is jealousy_.

Maybe he’s in love Jeno, after all. After nineteen whole years of being his best _friend_ , after rejecting him two years ago because Jaemin was dating a girl, after Jeno disappearing afterwards for weeks, just to come back with an apology on his lips and a bunch of regrets – his big, sad eyes staring at Jaemin as though Jaemin was the only person that mattered to him. Because, like Jeno had told him, their friendship was bigger than anything, bigger than any person that crossed their lives and beds, bigger than themselves.

Jeno was wrong. Jaemin is crying in front of a damn toilet with Mark’s trembling hand on his back because, despite being a psychology major, Mark doesn’t have any idea of how to deal with an anxiety attack. Jeno was fucking wrong. Fuck Jeno.

“How come you can’t actually puke?” Mark mutters in a small voice.

He’s crouching down next to Jaemin, inspecting his face as if watching your friend vomit wasn’t a gross experience. Mark is made of a different material compared to other humans; he’s one of those persons you can only meet once in your life, whose love is endless and selfless. Jaemin could fuck up a million times, and Mark would still extend his hand for him, to pull him up once more.

“I didn’t drink,” Jaemin scoffs, bitter.

It’s normal for Mark to suppose that Jaemin is in this state because of the alcohol, but if Jaemin was drunk he wouldn’t have had an anxiety attack in the middle of a party; he wouldn’t have given any fuck about Jeno kissing other boy until the next morning.

“What?” Mark asks, befuddled. Under different circumstances, Jaemin would have laughed at his confusion, at the way Mark’s hand freezes on his hair. “Then how are you-”

A new wave of nausea invades Jaemin and Mark doesn’t manage to finish his question, leaning over to hold him. Jaemin is aware of why it’s coming back: the mere thought of Jeno provokes this within him. He fears that this will last, because in a few hours he will have to be up and functioning, talking to Jeno again, pretending that nothing happened tonight. It’s unusual for Jaemin not to lean on Jeno when he’s not feeling well, but in these past few months he has gotten the gist of it; and it’s destroying him.

When the nauseas come to a halt for the fifth time since Jaemin has knelt down, Jaemin whines, tired, and says, “Remember when I said that Jeno was like a brother to me?”

The ironical part of the situation is that they had that conversation two days ago. Two days ago. Jaemin was so sure of himself then, because he had affirmed it so many times since they started college that he had lost count. It was an automatic reflex when people asked about Jeno and him: _no, we’re not dating. We’re friends_. Jaemin wonders if hearing that had ever hurt Jeno. Of course it must have had. Jaemin should wonder how many times instead.

“Yeah,” Mark answers, expectant, almost afraid.

Jaemin rests his head on the toilet, not caring about how awful that is, and displays a cynical smile for his friend. “It was bullshit.”

The confession takes time to settle with Mark. Mark is smarter than he lets on, but Jaemin has lied to him so many times that he must have started to think that Jaemin was saying the truth: that he didn’t have any feelins for Jeno. His sensibility didn’t allow Mark to believe every one of Jaemin’s words, and despite how much Jaemin insisted, Mark won’t hold it against him. However, Jaemin hates that when Mark comprehends his words, pity is the unique emotion that his eyes transmit. He’s gullible and sensitive, and his empathy drives him to figure out what Jaemin has felt all this time, why he’s hugging the toilet as if it was his life saver.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” Mark mumbles. His finger threads through Jaemin’s hair, and even if Mark intends to calm him down, that tears a sob out of him. A little bit of sincere affection is what breaks Jaemin in two. “Jaemin-”

Deep inside, Jaemin knows the advice Mark will give him. Perhaps not now, while he’s having a breakdown, but tomorrow or the day after tomorrow or next week. The idea of telling Jeno about his feelings horrifies Jaemin, and it’s not a matter of rejection or acceptance, only the mere action of looking into Jeno’s eyes and admitting that he’s in love with him. His brain has prevented him from admitting it to himself for so long that it’s even more difficult to do it to Jeno.

“Don’t tell him, please,” Jaemin begs, voice dissipating into a rumble.

Mark’s hand halts, caught by surprise, bewilderment in his pupils. “I wasn’t going to,” he assures Jaemin. And it isn’t until Mark talks again that Jaemin realizes that his lungs are about to explode, “Breathe, baby. You need it.”

Jaemin does. He needs it.

“Thank you,” Jaemin whispers, drawing an exhausted smile.

Jaemin deserves what he’s suffering. Life didn’t shove his situation down his throat all of a sudden: it was a chain of actions what has brought him here, his stupid denial and his stupid flirting and the fact that he might have kissed Jeno a few too many times.

This is the story of how Jaemin ended up in a bathroom crying on his knees.

 

 

 

 

I.

For some, university means parting ways with their friends. For Jaemin and Jeno, university means arriving at the campus days before the year starts, shoulder to shoulder, together.

Between the two, Jeno is the most scared. Jaemin doesn’t understand why he’s scared. It’s a new environment, they’re leaving home, and Jeno has always been the quiet one – people often mistake it for shyness – but they have each other, so Jaemin is unable to fear anything. Jeno doesn’t tell him with words, but he tugs at his hands and doesn’t let go during the whole trip, and even when Jeno falls asleep in the train, his hand is tight around Jaemin’s.

The woman that informs them about their dorms and gives them the keys sends both of them a skeptical glance as soon as they walk up to the reception, and Jaemin is confused until he remembers that Jeno has entangled their hands once more. Jaemin doesn’t mind being stared at, and while Jeno does, he’s too nervous to remember that they have been holding hands for a while.

Jaemin might not understand why Jeno is so scared, but if he needs to crush Jaemin’s hand to feel better, Jaemin will give him that and much more.

 

 

 

 

II.

They meet their first friend on the second day of college.

There’s a café near the dorms, always buzzing with life and students that come and go high on caffeine. High on other stuff, too, but it’s not the café which provides it. Despite the amount of activity within, Jaemin and Jeno agree that they can find solace there compared to how the dorms work. The year has begun, therefore every senior is constantly hazing on them and they don’t feel that safe in their own dorms.

Jeno has brought _A Room of One’s Own_ with him, since Jaemin doesn’t entertain him the whole time they spend at the café. Jeno learned that the hard way, pouting across the table at Jaemin while he scrolled down his phone and heeded him zero attention.

Today is different, however, because Jaemin’s attention is inevitably drawn by a boy sitting alone behind Jeno. He has a book resting on the table too, a sweetened choice as a drink to accompany, but what piques Jaemin’s interest is that the boy isn’t reading or drinking. He’s playing a curious game, palm facing upwards, a minuscule stream of water that imitates a fountain coming out of his hand. It’s perfect, meticulous, and when the water falls against his skin, it fades away like it never existed.

Jaemin can’t help but smile at him. And as his eyes flicker up to observe the boy’s face, Jaemin discovers that the boy is staring back at him, eyebrows raised.

“You only want to talk to him because he’s pretty,” Jeno interrupts him before Jaemin can recover his reasoning and announce what he’s about to do.

Jeno hasn’t even lifted his stare from the book, but his glasses have slipped down his nose, so it’s evident that he’s not reading anymore. His friend must have checked out the boy when they stepped in, because he hasn’t turned around in any moment. It isn’t strange, for Jeno has an incredible memory and a considerable perception of his surroundings. The way he reads Jaemin’s intentions though is beyond shameful for him.

“You wound me,” Jaemin jokes, placing a hand on his own chest for the dramatics. Then, curious, he bends over the table to whisper, “You think he’s pretty?”

Jeno places his book on the table to frown up at him, annoyed for some reason. “Don’t play with me,” he warns Jaemin, well aware that Jaemin is trying to entangle him into his mess. “I know you as if I had birthed you.”

Intuition tells Jaemin why this bothers Jeno. They’re hanging out together, so it’s not ethical for Jaemin to dump him to hit on the first pretty boy he found at the café. That’s not his plan anyhow, because Jaemin reckons that both of them need to expand their circle and make new friends. They have always had trouble to let other people in, as if their bond could be broken for building more friendships, but they have discussed this a few times in the past. Shaking off those thoughts isn’t as simple as it should be, though. Jaemin doesn’t blame Jeno for it.

“I’ll get his number and be right back,” Jaemin announces, guiltless.

First of all, he has to ignore the way Jeno rolls his eyes at him. But Jeno sinks into his reading session a second later, and that’s how he warns Jaemin that he won’t stop him from taking bad decisions.

Jaemin stands on his feet and approaches the boy, who has made the fountain disappear and has gently crossed his arms over the table, grinning at Jaemin like he’s a kid showing up at his door and asking for sweets. He’s indeed pretty, and that intimidates Jaemin, but he has never been the one to regret his impulsiveness.

A few minutes later and after some sarcastic remarks, Jaemin gathers the courage to ask for his name. The boy is called Renjun.

 

 

 

 

III.

Before Jeno’s confession, when they were fifteen, he gifted Jaemin a witch hat.

Jaemin had laughed at it at first, because it was the exact representation of what others thought they had to wear. It was black with a blue lace as a hatband, the crown pointy and the brim big and soft. But it was beautiful and manually crafted, and Jaemin’s eyes had sparked at the sight of it.

Back then, Jaemin didn’t understand the meaning of it, but throughout the years he has worn it so many times that Jeno claims he should buy him a new one, that it’s not decent to wear such a mistreated hat. It isn’t, but Jaemin can’t throw it away, for that hat carries a realization that changed Jaemin’s life.

When Renjun comes into their life, the hat becomes even more powerful. Back in their town Jaemin and Jeno didn’t know anyone of their own kind, and it’s the first time they have contact with someone like them. Back then, it was Jeno and Jaemin only, with their stupid witch hats and their stupid witch jokes, one on one, only one person to understand them.

The shift is vertiginous: when Jaemin wears the hat to his lectures, people stare at him. And they aren’t simple, curious gazes, not always. It feels out of place, though that’s what Jaemin is, though he can’t change that part of him. That’s why he’s safer with Jeno, why it’s effortless with him. It’s just a hat, but it represents a connection that they will never able to ignore.

 

 

 

 

IV.

Life is full of ironies. And when it comes to Jaemin, the universe works to wonderful extents to remind him that he can’t escape them.

Renjun grows to like Jeno much more than he ever likes Jaemin. They bond over books, fairytales, and in the span of three weeks, their attachment is menacing to Jaemin’s health. Renjun is a journalism student with a penchant for literature, so Jeno adores him, and Jaemin often sulks around them, shoulders hunched and clear disappointment on his face because he doesn’t know anything about _The last of Hanako_ or _There a Petal Silently Falls_.

It’s a reminder of why friendships are so fragile. Jaemin watches Jeno’s eyes light up when he talks to Renjun, learns that there are people out there much more compatible with Jeno than Jaemin – people that can make him happier, enrich him as a person. Jeno can love boys that aren’t Jaemin, even if that love is platonic, and Jaemin isn’t ready for it.

Jaemin has always been the only one.

Despite the intrusion, Jaemin is unable to dislike Renjun. What encites his frustration is Jeno’s resolution to ignore Jaemin’s shifting emotional moods. During weekends Jaemin and Jeno hang out alone for the most part, though Jaemin skips a few Saturdays to favor plans with his classmates, and even if Jeno doesn’t mention that he disapproves of it, he does. By the third weekend Jaemin skips, an odd tension has built between them, a tension that has to do with more things besides Renjun.

They’re walking through a big park near the campus, a deep silence after Jeno has finished telling Jaemin about his week, and Jaemin pressed his lips as he realizes he hasn’t kept up with the conversation. Jeno’s voice is suffocated into his ears, as though Jaemin has lost the ability to hear, and he can sense how Jeno glances at him, first in concern, later in frustration.

“At least you could pretend you’re interested,” Jeno observes, interlacing his hands over his stomach. It’s a sign of nervousness, which Jaemin hasn’t witnessed in a long time, and he has the need to reach out and take Jeno’s hand in his. But Jeno isn’t receptive. Jaemin isn’t either.

Jaemin lies, “I’m interested.”

A noise of indignation leaves Jeno’s mouth, since both of them are aware that it’s a lie. They don’t lie to each other, it’s a rule, no matter how hard or awful the truth is. Protecting isn’t an excuse.

So Jeno halts altogether, and by the time Jaemin spins around to face him, his hurt gaze has transformed into a glower. The sun falling on his face contrasts with his expression, and even though the light concedes a glint to his hair and eyes, they remain as dark as always.

“You’re an open book,” Jeno points out. He bites down on his lower lip, pensive, and it takes Jaemin a second to understand that he’s measuring his next words. Jeno does talk with a careful, sweeter tone when he says, “Especially when I mention Renjun.”

Jeno would have never missed the signs. But his tone lets Jaemin know that Jeno has misinterpreted them, however, because Jaemin doesn’t have anything against Jeno and Renjun in particular, just Jeno and _anyone_. Anyone between them. He has a great irrational objection against losing Jeno, and it’s irrational because he’s not losing Jeno: they’re growing together but apart, as it has to be.

“That’s not-”

“I’m just saying.” Jeno presses his lips into a line, darting his gaze away from Jaemin and to the floor. Jaemin doesn’t know what that means. “I would never make a move on a boy you like, Jaemin. So you can stop acting like I killed your whole family for being friends with him.”

It’s a misunderstanding. Jaemin could fix it by explaining that his feelings aren’t directed to Renjun in that sense, but there isn’t a right way, a way at all, to clarify that. Jeno won’t comprehend that Jaemin is feeling jealous without having romantic feelings towards any of them. It doesn’t make sense, does it? Jeno won’t believe him, and if Jaemin attempts to convince him, they might fight over Jaemin’s insincerity.

So Jaemin prepares himself for the disaster this can turn into and mutters, “I’m sorry.”

For some reason, that’s what Jeno wishes to hear, and that involuntary confirmation that he’s after Renjun leaves a bitter taste on Jaemin’s mouth. The confirmation, the fact that Jeno has been anticipating it, and that Jaemin has surrendered so fast. Jaemin hates fitting in the mold Jeno has created for him beforehand, but it’s easier for both of them. It’s safe.

 

 

 

 

V.

“Is Jeno, you know?”

Jaemin looks up from his tablet, confused. Renjun is staring at him with an inquisitive semblance, attention diverted from his books. The way he speaks tells Jaemin that Renjun has been considering shooting that question for a while, but Jaemin was too immersed in his own tasks to notice.

“What do I know?”

Renjun lifts his eyebrows, incredulous at Jaemin's ignorance. “Off limits?”

The answer should be simple, but it isn't. No, Jeno isn't off limits. Jeno isn't his, nor does Renjun have to honor any friendship code not to madden Jaemin. Yet, for some reason, Jaemin is physically incapable of parting his lips and giving Renjun freedom. Permission.

“You like Jeno?” Jaemin asks instead, feeling his mouth dry, his lungs empty of oxygen.

For a second Renjun tilts his head, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. It's the tone Jaemin has used, he's aware, and he reminds himself to control his nerves next time.

But Renjun doesn’t evidence that Jaemin is responding in unusual ways; instead he shrugs. “He’s cute. You can tell, right? That your best friend is very, very cute.”

Jaemin's blood boils. It pulses against his eardrums, deafening.

“No.”

“Liar,” Renjun spits at him. And then, much to Jaemin's horror, he releases a laugh so out of control that it sounds like he's hurting his throat. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he's trying not to make noise at the library, which he's failing at, but his laugh claws at Jaemin's conscience. “Oh god, you’re such a bad liar. Jeno was right.”

It isn't the first time Renjun toys with him, but it's the first time the target includes Jeno. Picking on others is his favorite pastime, and Jaemin bites the bait once and once again because he's used to boys like Jeno, who would never prank anyone in fear it would hurt their feelings. Renjun doesn't give a fuck about his feelings. And Jaemin has jumped right into his trap.

“What are you laughing at?” Jaemin says through gritted teeth.

“I don't like Jeno, dumbass,” Renjun confesses, a smirk lighting up on his lips. It should be a relief that Renjun isn’t interested in Jeno, but it's impossible for Jaemin to relax under Renjun's mocking scrutiny. “So what’s your story?”

“My story? Our story”

Renjun taps his pen against his notes, and with every touch, the pen liberates yellow sparks, like minuscule fireworks exploding against the paper. “The story of why you aren’t eating each other’s mouths on a daily basis.”

Even if Jaemin's innocence is long gone and forgotten, he never thinks about Jeno so explicitly. Never this way. And Renjun doesn't have any filter, thus worse expressions are yet to come if Jaemin enables him.

That's the reason Jaemin clears his throat to gain time, shifts his eyes to the tablet, and concludes, “Ask him.”

“I did, believe me.”

Jaemin snaps his head up too fast, and the triumph extends all over Renjun's face at his reaction. This little demon has prepared big tricks, but also small tricks like this one to shove Jaemin's truths out of him. If it's about Jeno, Jaemin will roll into the traps without the need to be pushed down.

“You asked him about _us_?” Jaemin hisses.

The problem is not only that it's none of Renjun's business, but also that Jaemin has made the effort for years of not reminding Jeno that once upon a time Jaemin rejected him. They don’t discuss certain memories because of that, because Jeno wanted to forget – in Jeno’s eyes, it was an act of selfishness, and even if Jaemin doesn’t agree, bringing up the topic hurts Jeno. It’s a mistake he will never wish to recall.

Renjun teases him, “Do you want to know what he answered?”

Jaemin would sell his soul in exchange of hearing at least five seconds of that conversation. All the things Jeno told Renjun, those things that he would never tell Jaemin. Yet it’s a breach of Jeno’s trust: Jaemin isn’t supposed to pry, but to move on. As he takes the decision of keeping his silence, his stomach violently twists at the opportunity he’s losing.

Renjun ignores his mute fear and, with a roll of his eyes, he begins, “Okay, so years ago Jeno asked you out while you were pretending to be straight.”

“I’m bisexual,” Jaemin corrects him.

“Makes sense.” Waving his hand to dismiss his input, Renjun squints at him. “Anyway, you were dating a girl you didn’t like that much, weren’t you?”

Feelings have never been Jaemin’s forte, that’s true, and less when he was a teenager. The difference between admiring someone’s beauty and wanting to introduce them to his parents was thin, very thin. Up to this day, Jaemin doesn’t know what love is yet, so he doesn’t have any way to measure it.

Yet it’s undeniable that his feelings weren’t that intense back then, so he mutters, “How do you know that?”

“Because you were fifteen, and you are _you_ , and you hit on me just because you thought I was easy on the eyes,” Renjun explains. Jaemin has warned him a few times not to mention the _incident_ again, but boys like Renjun love bathing in his own ego, and Jaemin bets that twenty years from now on, he will still be hearing about the day he flirted with Renjun. “Guys like you don’t date seriously in high school.”

Jaemin is impressed. “Fine. What else?”

“So Jeno asked you out,” Renjun continues, smug. “You were scared and had the perfect excuse not to take the risk, and now you’re condemned to be only friends forever.”

Even though Renjun is right in most of his suppositions, Jaemin doesn’t appreciate his tone. For others, it’s nearly impossible to understand why Jaemin would prefer staying friends rather than spoiling a friendship over feelings, or why Jaemin only applies this rule to Jeno.

“Friendship is important,” Jaemin recites. Out of the blue, a tension that wasn’t there before is installed in his back, and he sounds robotic even to himself. “Romance and sex are overrated.”

Renjun stares at him in horror. “Did you just say _that_?”

“Shut up.”

That plead is overheard, because Renjun has already clamped his hand over his mouth, drowning his laughter. “Holy shit, you sound so sad,” he moans, like not mocking Jaemin out loud is hurting his soul. And then, in a bad imitation of Jaemin’s voice, he mimics him, “ _Friendship is important. I kind of want to marry Jeno, though. But relationships are overrated_.”

Jaemin chokes on air, and Renjun gazes at him like he’s forbidding Jaemin to contradict him. Like he knows every one of his little secrets. And Jaemin would have the decency to blush, but before he can dip further into his embarrassment, they are interrupted by a boy slamming his hands on their table.

Jaemin startles, a soft, embarrassing scream leaving his throat. He doesn’t know the boy at all, and judging Renjun’s matching shock, he doesn’t either. Yet the boy glares at them without an ounce of shame, hovering over the table like he’s disposed to punch both of them if they dare to say a word.

Jaemin checks their surroundings to see if anyone else can see him or this is a product of his imagination. Taking into account how there’s another guy one table away from them, sinking in his seat and covering his face in frustration, the furious, rude boy is real. Jaemin can relate to that frustration, because sometimes he can’t convince Renjun to behave politely either. But Renjun and he are the ones in danger now.

“Excuse me,” the boy grunts. His eyes travel from Jaemin to Renjun; he has nice, warm eyes, but they’re in flames. Jaemin didn’t notice him until he walked up to them, but his voice denotes that he has been holding this back for a while. “This is a library, not a romance advice booth.”

An immediate apology blooms in Jaemin’s mouth, but Renjun’s scoff interrupts him before he can talk. Inclining out of his chair to examine the boy in full length, Renjun scans the boy from head to toe.

Then, his sentence is, “That’s a pity, because I’m sure you could use some.”

Spiraling into panic, Jaemin makes a whining noise. Renjun doesn’t understand that he can’t insult strangers when they call him out for skipping rules, and he has been lucky so far, but luck isn’t endless. Today is the end of if, for the boy’s incredulity fuels his rage, and Jaemin is scared enough to back away in case he decides to put up a fight.

“What the fuck?” he spits, voice rising. Jaemin admires his self-control, because anyone else would be screaming at Renjun by now. “Who do you think you are?”

Renjun is about to answer with his real name, Jaemin feels it. So Jaemin hurries up to lie, “He’s joking. For real. He has a weird sense of humor.”

The boy doesn’t buy it. In fact, he doesn’t even glance at Jaemin, because all his attention is placed on Renjun, on his very purposeful smirk, very entertained with the situation.

“I’m going to get you two kicked out,” the boy announces, and for the first time, there’s something akin to happiness in his face.

When he walks away, Jaemin makes contact with the other guy, who automatically gestures them to escape. It’d be pretty comical if it wasn’t because that’s his friend, and if a friend tells them to run away from someone he knows well, it means they have to fear for their lives. Besides, Jaemin _needs_ the library and can’t afford a ban.

“We’re taking the emergency exit,” he orders Renjun, who is still observing how the threatening boy heads toward the reception. Jaemin has to reach over the table and punch him in the arm to get his attention, and then emphasizes, “Fast.”

All in all, Jaemin still has to drag Renjun out while he laughs, because for him running through the library must be the most hilarious activity ever.

 

 

 

 

VI.

Jeno stops accompanying them to their library meetings.

At first, Jaemin believes his excuses. It’s an advantage for Jaemin, anyhow, because he doesn’t have to stand witnessing Renjun and Jeno whispering to each other, snuggling and sharing interesting passages of their books with each other. Jaemin finds difficult for the three of them to be together, so it’s a relief when Jeno claims that he studies better on his own.

But then Jaemin understands why Jeno is doing this: he is trying not to meddle between Renjun and him.

Those stares that Jaemin shoots at them are easy to misinterpret, in particular when Jeno is certain that Jaemin likes Renjun. Jeno has erased himself from the equation so that Renjun and Jaemin can have their library dates, alone, and neither Renjun nor Jaemin have been smart enough to realize.

The day realization hits Jaemin, however, he sits in the library with his stare lost among the shelves, reevaluating his whole life, feeling like the most insensitive, dumbest person in the world. Jeno would do anything to make him happy, but Jaemin isn’t as unselfish as his friend. In fact, Jaemin would hate to think that it’s not because Jeno cares about him and his happiness, but because Jeno’s feelings have evaporated forever.

Meanwhile, every day Renjun sits closer and closer to the boy that threatened them. Jaemin assumes that it’s an attempt to irk him, but by the second week, Renjun can’t look into his eyes anymore. When the boy lifts his head to glare at them, Renjun hides behind his notes, and no matter how many times Jaemin tells him that it’s gross that he’s developing a crush on the boy, Renjun insists in studying in that zone of the library. In all honesty, Jaemin deems suspicious that the other pair keeps choosing the same seats every week, but he wouldn’t incite Renjun’s hopes even if he was paid to do such.

And to aggravate the situation, one night in which they’re having dinner at a cheap restaurant around the corner, Renjun decides it’s a good idea to mention the boy in front of Jeno. It marvels Jaemin how many things Renjun has to say about him considering that he doesn’t _know_ him, but he learns that a whipped Renjun can talk for hours about someone’s eyelashes.

Jeno’s confusion grows by the moment, his fork resting over the bowl, as though he can’t eat and understand Renjun at the same time. In an attempt to avoid the questioning glances Jeno is throwing at him, Jaemin slumps further in his seat, looking at his soup like he hasn’t fed himself in days.

His plan is ruined by Renjun, who isn’t satisfied with the lack of enthusiasm from his audience and pokes him until Jaemin gazes up at them.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Renjun asks, hopeful.

“You insinuated that he was ugly in his face,” Jaemin reminds him. Jeno’s eyes narrow at him, and he ignores that uncomfortable feeling creeping on his back to be able to finish, “Pretty sure he hates your guts.”

Renjun utters a chain of protests after that, but they fall into deaf ears, since Jaemin couldn’t care less. His apathy might be registered as pain, because Jeno struggles to change the topic, and what was confusion before becomes concern, pity, and sadness. And Jaemin feels like a criminal for worrying Jeno. For not talking with him about everything, like they would have done a couple of years ago to clear up any misunderstanding. Jaemin doesn’t remember when he turned into this coward version of himself.

For once, Jaemin is relieved when the night falls and he returns to his dorm. Even if Renjun’s passion is contagious, Jaemin can’t be soaked in it while Jeno tries to drift the conversation; by the time Jaemin tucks himself into bed, he feels as exhausted as he had run a marathon.

He doesn’t have the chance to relax, however, because there’s a knock on the door and the first thing Jaemin’s brain supposes is that a senior has come to torture him. It’s past two in the morning, and even though most pranks got old a month ago, from time to time someone decides that Jaemin has to comply with his duties as a freshman: that’s it, suffering. Jaemin approaches the door without making any noise, determined to pretend that he isn’t at the dorm, but then he recognizes Jeno’s voice calling his name in a whisper.

The halls are dangerous, so Jaemin opens the door and hauls Jeno inside without any tact. Jeno gasps at the strength of the pull, for he doesn’t have any time to comprehend that Jaemin has heard him, and looks terribly surprised when he realizes he’s inside Jaemin’s bedroom.

Jaemin is sure that Jeno doesn’t have any right to feel surprised. He’s the weird one for paying a visit at this time of the night, especially when they have parted ways minutes ago.

“What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering him, Jeno observes the dorm, his big eyes analyzing every corner like he’s about to discover a crime scene. “Is your roommate here?” he asks in a small voice, glancing at the bathroom with clear wariness.

That’s not the question he intends to ask, Jaemin knows. Jeno is making sure they are alone. He used to do this when they were kids too, when he scrambled towards Jaemin and tiptoed to whisper a secret into his ear – that he had stolen sweets from his sister for both of them, for example, or that they should plot to have a sleepover together before their parents could reject the idea – and always, _always_ , he observed their surroundings first.

“No, he’s-”

Jeno interrupts him with a quick, “Can I sleep with you?”

Speechless, Jaemin notices that Jeno has his pajamas folded and pressed against his own abdomen. Though Jeno’s semblance doesn’t display his nervousness, the way he’s clenching the pajamas, knuckles white, does.

In a daze, Jaemin nods, not understanding what’s happening. Jeno disappears into the bathroom to change clothes, and Jaemin stays stills for a whole minute until he snaps back to reality.

They have slept together a hundred times throughout the years, and Jaemin isn’t exaggerating. Their mothers are close friends, so sometimes they would just fall asleep in each other’s bed and their mothers would deem waking them up a hassle. As they grew up, the atmosphere was different. Jeno’s touches were more careful, at least until the tiredness took over the best of them, and often they looked at each other for longer, for so long that they had to pretend that it wasn’t happening. Jaemin can recall every single time that he opened his eyes in the morning and Jeno was in his arms, looking so peaceful and innocent that Jaemin doubts he will ever witness it again.

They stopped sharing beds a year before college. Jaemin never asked why, because there were questions which answers were too delicate.

Jaemin is trembling when he slips into bed, but pressing his legs again the mattress helps him to conceal it. The sheets are cold, but Jaemin’s body is invaded by heat, by tension, yet his last concern is spending a cold night. He knows that’s impossible with Jeno by his side.

As Jeno steps back into the main room, Jaemin lies down and busies himself with his phone. Jeno has never liked the nights Jaemin ignored him in favor of his phone, so Jaemin isn’t caught off guard when Jeno snatches his phone away, a small frown between his eyebrows.

“Unchanging _you_ ,” Jeno says, placing Jaemin’s phone on the bedside table.

Then he climbs onto the bed with Jaemin.

They fit so naturally that Jaemin feels amazed for a second. Jeno sighs, his chest inflating and caressing Jaemin’s side. Jaemin sweeps his arm around Jeno’s waist and pulls him closer, and he can hear how Jeno stops breathing when his leg irremediably clasps over Jaemin’s hips. Every inch of Jeno’s body is against Jaemin, and for the first time in a long time, Jaemin feels complete. When he dares to glance at Jeno, he discovers that Jeno has closed his eyes, his head resting on Jaemin’s chest and his hair tickling the crook of his neck. Jaemin reaches out and caresses Jeno’s thigh over his pajama pants, securing the grasp of Jeno’s leg around himself. Jeno shuffles with him, adjusting, the warmth of his cheek on Jaemin’s collarbones.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Jeno murmurs, an afterthought. “I’m sorry.”

His apology is the last piece of information Jaemin needs to comprehend his actions. Jeno might have set the rule of not sleeping with Jaemin ever again, but he would break any rule to comfort Jaemin – a heartbroken Jaemin, a Jaemin that is dealing with Renjun crushing on another guy, is the perfect excuse for Jeno to console him.

Jaemin is tempted to shut up and cuddle Jeno all night, but he sounds so regretful that Jaemin would feel like a monster if he let this pass.

“Jeno,” he begins, curling a hand around Jeno’s cheek to make him look up. Jeno does, eyes wide at the gesture, and all of a sudden Jaemin is aware of how easy it would be if he decided to move forward and leave a kiss on his lips. “I don’t give a fuck about Renjun. I mean, as a friend, yeah? Wait, that’s not a question. I definitely give some fucks about him as a friend. But that’s all.”

Jeno blinks at him rapidly, as though he’s trying to wake up from a dream. His heart pounds so fast, so hard that Jaemin senses it under his clothes, against his ribcage. Jeno’s heart is beating for him.

“How did that happen?” Jeno questions him at last. “Did you two… already _try_?”

Not even in a thousand lives Jaemin would have imagined that Jeno would ask something like this. A positive reply would destroy him. Jaemin could have made a bunch of mistakes with Renjun and it wouldn’t be anything new for Jaemin; Jeno is aware of that. Yet he’s still asking.

“No.” Jaemin has to repress the urge of laughing, because Jeno is serious. The idea of having something more than a simple friendship with Renjun is hilarious to Jaemin, but it’s different for Jeno. “I liked him for three days. When pretty boys open their mouth, my crushes are often short-lived.”

Jeno sinks his face in Jaemin’s pajamas, and it takes Jaemin a while to realize that he’s hiding his laughter. It’s hard to do so, however, because Jaemin can sense how Jeno’s mouth stretches, can spot the swelling of his cheeks as his face twists into a smile.

Befuddled, Jaemin demands, “Why are you smiling?”

“I’m not smiling,” Jeno mumbles, but his smile stretches wider against Jaemin’s chest.

“Lee Jeno, you are smiling.” Jaemin can’t help but laugh, his fingers threading through Jeno’s hair to push his bangs away and confirm that, in fact, Jeno’s eyes are scrunched up in happiness too. “Let me see you.”

The words slip out of Jaemin’s mouth, and they hold more power and meaning than he ever intended. Jeno is just as affected as him, because when Jaemin taps his chin up and Jeno reveals his face again, his smile has melted away.

After two years, Jaemin looks at Jeno, really _looks_ at him. Jeno doesn’t have his childish features anymore, but hard edges and angles and air of masculinity that Jaemin envies from the bottom of his heart. He remains beautiful in Jaemin’s eyes, intimidating in a wonderful way when he doesn’t smile, and pretty when he does.

“You’re my whole life, do you know that?” Jaemin murmurs, and despite how weak his voice surges, he pronounces every word with care, with affection. It’s a thought that wasn’t supposed to be verbalized. Jaemin didn’t want to tell Jeno. A friend can’t be his whole life, but he is, and that’s so scary for both of them that it reflects on Jeno’s expression too. Jaemin breathes out, hoarse, “Should I shut up?”

“Please,” Jeno begs.

And all of a sudden, Jaemin is hit by a wave of things to say. Things which, biting his tongue and throwing his head back on the pillow, he keeps to himself anyhow.

Jeno slings an arm around him, because he’s oblivious to how dangerous is to trust Jaemin, and Jaemin has a fleeting thought about holding his jaw and kissing him. He wonders if Jeno would kiss him back, if he would moan when Jaemin bit him, and how far Jeno would let him go while knowing that Jaemin could never reciprocate his feelings.

But that’s crazy, isn’t it? Jeno still loves him. Jaemin would never break his heart.

 

 

 

 

VIII.

Permission provided, Jaemin decides to join Jeno in his study sessions. After all, Renjun has reached a point in which he frequents the library for hormones related reasons rather than education reasons, and Jaemin has a limit to how many days he can waste just so that Renjun flirts with someone else.

The only disadvantage is that Jeno’s roommate, Jisung, doesn’t hide his dislike towards Jaemin, and sometimes Jaemin isn’t in the mood to put up with Jisung’s antics. He figures out that Jeno must have vented to him about Jaemin a couple of times, which is strange if he ponders over it: once upon a time, Jeno would only complain to Jaemin. And not _about_ Jaemin. But people grow up and become assholes and make mistakes, and Jaemin prefers Jeno to badmouth him behind his back rather than punching him in the face.

Though a punch, from time to time, would do him good.

Jeno insists that Jisung doesn’t hate him, but one night Jaemin falls asleep in Jeno’s bed, curled up against him, his shoes mysteriously disappear during the night. In the morning, Jisung’s smile is too bright, and guys like Jisung only smile when they have made a man suffer.

That’s the reason that night Jaemin convinces Jeno to have dinner outside, claims that Renjun will arrive later – it’s a lie, but Jaemin texts him the location and threatens him to turn up, otherwise Jeno will know he has lied once again – and manages to escape Jisung’s glower from inside the dorm. Yule is around the corner, so Jaemin convinces Jeno that it’s their Yule dinner before Renjun goes back home for the holidays. Unlike him, Jaemin and Jeno will spend the holidays at the campus instead of with their families, but they have each other.

Jeno is physically and emotionally unable to refuse such an important event, not because he’d feel guilty, but because he loves cheesy occasions.

In a life that they have spent together, there are rarely any first times left for them, but tonight Jaemin discovers one of them. It’s a point of no return to walk arm in arm with Jeno, to look at him while they stroll through the crowd and the cold, and realize that they’re not two kids anymore. And thus as Jeno snuggles closer, unaware of the way Jaemin is staring at him, Jaemin is sure that they look like a couple. When they were kids, they had many excuses to justify their touches, yet all those excuses are meaningless and insufficient now.

It becomes obvious in small details, like the waitress’ confusion when Jaemin asks for a table for three, not for two, or like the continuous feeling of being watched by curious eyes. As they sit down and Jeno gets rid of his coat, Jaemin regrets inviting Renjun. It could have been Jeno and him alone, like it has always been.

But it isn’t. Renjun arrives twenty minutes later, almost runs to and into their table, panting, and announces, “Donghyuck.”

“What?” Jeno says, grabbing Renjun’s arm so that he doesn’t fall flat face onto the table.

Considering that he has forgotten to bring his coat, Renjun must be out of his mind. It seems to be plausible because without any explanation, he glances at Jeno and adds, “I have a date with Donghyuck.”

That doesn’t clarify anything. As opposed to what it should be, it’s Renjun who treats them like they’re crazy when he’s the one acting like he sniffled something white on his way here.

“You have a date with-?” Jaemin starts. “Who the fuck is Donghyuck?”

With a disgusted gesture of his lips, Renjun glowers at Jaemin. “My boy? Library boy. Please, Jaemin, wake up, I don’t have any more boys.”

Anyone could vouch to that, since Renjun hasn’t left the library in the last two months. It would be a miracle if Renjun had managed to flirt with another boy during that time.

Jaemin opens and closes his mouth several times, not knowing how to process this information. “How did you score a date with him when he hates you?”

“I went to him, said he was cute, asked him on a date,” Renjun explains, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s obvious. Yet he wasted two months by acting like a teenager that had never kissed a boy before.

But the puzzle isn’t complete. Jaemin is aware of how Renjun has been interested in Donghyuck for a while, but the other boy has never shown anything except disdain towards him. In fact, Jaemin suspects he was the one taking chairs away from their usual table so that Renjun and Jaemin couldn’t sit near him and his friend.

“He said yes?” Jaemin asks, unsure.

“His friend did.” Judging how Renjun’s lips stretch into the most prideful smile possible, Renjun doesn’t doubt that it’s still a positive answer though not a direct one. Jaemin has his own doubts. “Donghyuck looked like he was dying inside.”

Jeno has to cover his mouth not to laugh, and Jaemin knows exactly why. Renjun is so enthusiastic about it, but the other boy has likely been tied into this mess thanks to his friend. Although both of them trust Renjun’s antics to change the boy’s opinion on him, it’s still funny that Renjun assumes that he has Donghyuck on the palm of his hand.

Jaemin doesn’t lower his guard, however, because by the time Renjun sits with them, he’s flashing an enchanting smile at Jaemin that is nothing but suspicious. It’s not a consequence of his happiness. Jaemin has the bad hunch that Renjun is about to ask something from him.

“Why do I feel like there’s a catch?” he mutters, careful.

Jeno stares between them, interested, but he flatly ignores Jaemin’s foot under the table. Jaemin can’t count on him to rescue him from whatever idea Renjun has come up with, perhaps because Jeno doesn’t deem Renjun dangerous, or because he wants to see Jaemin burn.

“You’re coming with me,” Renjun announces without an ounce of shame. “It’s a double date.”

Jaemin freezes, his heart plummeting. Out of instinct, he glances at Jeno first, but his friend has moved his eyes away from them, all of a sudden very interested in the sleeves of his jumper.

Renjun shifts on his seat, frowning. “Don’t make that face, you saw the other guy. He’s damn handsome.”

It’s not hard to sense Jaemin’s intent of rejecting the idea, and that’s why Renjun intercepts him before Jaemin can contradict him. Renjun didn’t even consult him before accepting, which is beyond rude, but that’s not the problem for Jaemin. He’s not against going on dates with strangers; in fact, a part of him is sure that he needs a bit of affection and he needs it _fast_ , but Renjun is a fool for mentioning it in front of Jeno. Jaemin doesn’t want him to know.

Renjun grumbles at his silence, “It won’t hurt you to try.”

And Jaemin retorts, “Why doesn’t Jeno go instead?”

The idea startles Jeno, who looks up at Jaemin with frightened eyes. Jaemin feels like a fool for trying to pass this onto him, because Jeno has never gone on a date. Jeno knows that Jaemin knows, and that explains why the betrayal invades Jeno’s expression when he catches on what Jaemin is attempting. Jaemin supposes that it must hurt, to be shoved by his own crush into another boy’s arms as though Jeno’s feelings for him are a nuisance that Jaemin needs to get rid of.

“He doesn’t even know Jeno,” Renjun says like it’s obvious. Jaemin raises his eyebrows, skeptical, reminding Renjun that the guy doesn’t know Jaemin either. “I mean, his face. And Jeno is out of his league, to be honest.”

“And I’m not?”

“You’re not,” Renjun confirms, unabashed despite Jaemin’s offended semblance.

Jeno hasn’t outright denied that he’d be disposed to take the offer, however, but when Renjun and Jaemin decide to get involved into a glaring contest – Renjun because he’s going to kill Jaemin if he doesn’t accompany him, and Jaemin because he thinks he’s on _anyone_ ’s level – Jeno meddles.

“Just go,” he says, leaning back on his seat. His chest rises, but he holds back the sigh in time; Jaemin has known him for too many years though, and he can sense his resignation and reticence. “You can’t let Renjun meet a guy that wanted to have him kicked out of the library, all alone.”

In a fit of selfishness, Jaemin has to bite his own lips not to snap at Jeno. He doesn’t understand why Jeno is being so weak, why he gives up on Jaemin like it’s useless to fight for him. Jaemin hates that Jeno is so keen on pretending his feelings don’t exist. They need to talk about it, but Jeno will look at him and deny everything this time, hoping to avoid the same situation they lived years ago.

Forgetting that they’re not alone, that Jeno’s feelings are supposed to be a secret, Jaemin reproaches him, “You don’t mind?”

If Jeno had shown the slightest fear before, that disappears to give space to coldness. “Why should I mind, Jaemin?” he defies Jaemin, chin up.

_Because you smiled when I said I wasn’t interested in Renjun_ , Jaemin should answer. _Because you love me, no matter how many times I break your heart_. But Jeno wants to play the pretending game. That game in which he pretends he doesn’t hurt if Jaemin moves on, in which he tells himself he can get over Jaemin until his wish becomes reality. Jaemin is determined to play it with him. That’s the fastest way to dispel the intrusive thoughts about wanting to kiss Jeno, to give themselves a chance, and Jaemin is an expert at it.

 

 

 

 

IX.

That year, Yule happens to be the loneliest holidays in Jaemin’s life.

Jeno is by his side, but he’s more silent than ever. When Jeno needs company, he invites Jaemin over, but they sleep in different beds – Jeno on Jisung’s bed, since his roommate has left for home as well, and Jaemin on Jeno’s bed. Yule is cold, long and empty. Jaemin misses being a kid that could fix anything by just apologizing to Jeno. They’re growing up and words aren’t enough anymore. They’re growing up, so their tolerance is decreasing, and Jaemin feels the pressure of having to mature if he doesn’t want to disappoint his loved ones.

When Renjun comes back, Jaemin feels relieved, and then the relief brings an unpleasant feeling to his mouth. If Jeno is anticipating Renjun’s return as much as Jaemin does, he doesn’t show it, and after giving Renjun a proper welcoming, he erases himself from the map.

Jaemin realizes that Jeno was with him so that Jaemin wasn’t alone, not because he wanted to. It angers Jaemin that Jeno has so much compassion, that he keeps putting Jaemin first and putting himself last, always last – Jaemin doesn’t understand what Jeno is asking from him, even though he wants to give it to him.

Renjun’s return means that Jaemin has to buckle up for their date, however, and that humors him long enough not to ponder over Jeno. With his flirting skills gone rusty, Jaemin’s only trick is to look handsome, so that’s what he focuses his efforts on.

When they sit inside Renjun’s car and Renjun turns to fix Jaemin’s hair for the last time before parting, he reveals, “We have been talking during the holidays.”

Jaemin isn’t all that surprised. The radio silence from Renjun hinted that he either was too busy to pay attention to Jaemin, or that he was ignoring him on purpose. Jaemin is glad that it was the first option.

“You didn’t even answer my texts, dude,” Jaemin complains.

“It’s not personal, I just don’t want to kiss you, you know?” Renjun grabs the wheel, smiling, and when Jaemin is about to respond with a similar smile, Renjun attacks him, “What did you do to make Jeno angry?”

For all he knows, Jeno and Renjun didn’t have time to be together, less to discuss the  hellish Yule Jaemin and Jeno have gone through. Jaemin’s messages did insinuate that they weren’t having much fun, but assuming that Jeno is mad is a stretch – though lately Renjun seems to read Jeno better than Jaemin does, and that’s scary. It feels like Jaemin is losing Jeno bit by bit, because Jeno is changing and Jaemin has lost the ability to comprehend him, to keep up. He’s stuck.

“He’s not angry.”

“Sure he is.” Renjun doesn’t give him the chance to explain himself. “You must have done something. Maybe not during the holidays, but before that? When I left he was already acting odd.”

And then, like an epiphany, Jaemin realizes what he has done.

 

 

 

 

X.

This isn’t a double date.

Jaemin is pretty sure that Mark, Donghyuck’s friend, is straight, because no one would dare to eat a hamburger like _that_ in front of his date. At least, no one that cares about the impression they will leave on their partner. Mark is either straight or uninterested in Jaemin, and for the sake of his self-esteem, Jaemin hopes that it’s the first.

Unlike Jaemin expected, there isn’t any sort of tension among them. Renjun and Donghyuck must have been talking a lot, indeed, because their conversation flows without trouble. Donghyuck is a boy that laughs easily, that likes Renjun’s mean jokes and that enables Renjun in dangerous ways. Mark laughs along every time, even at remarks that are far from being funny, to the point that Jaemin thinks he’s surrounded by three crazy guys with an uncanny sense of humor.

When Renjun and Donghyuck leave the table to order more drinks, Jaemin follows them with his eyes. Renjun is shameless, passing an arm around Donghyuck’s waist when they’re in line; with his other hand, he summons a bunch of tiny fireworks, showing off to Donghyuck. Donghyuck stares at the fireworks at first, laughing, but the next thirty seconds his eyes are on an unsuspecting Renjun, who is frowning up at his own hand in concentration.

Mark, who is observing the pair as well, asks Jaemin, “Are you like Renjun?” Jaemin nods. “I thought so.”

“Why?”

Mark shrugs, “The air around you. Donghyuck was kind of scared of Renjun when he discovered what he could do. But to be fair, he has some cool tricks. The fountain one? Donghyuck loves it.”

Jeno loves that one too, but Jaemin suspects it’s because it was the trick that brought Jaemin to notice Renjun. The trick that in the end united the three of them.

“Still, he wanted me to come in case Renjun was weird,” Mark finishes, biting down on the last piece of his hamburger.

Mark might not be his type, but Jaemin can tell from miles away that he’s a trustable person. He displays a raw honesty that instead of coming off as rude, it comes off as innocent, like a child that runs his mouth without remembering that he’s not supposed to reveal what his parents said in the intimacy of their house.

“Well, he is weird,” Jaemin agrees with slight amusement.

Mark tilts his head, stealing a glance from Renjun before redirecting his words back to Jaemin. “He’s cute and impolite and Donghyuck likes that. Plus he needs to get off me for a while and Renjun is helping him to do that.”

Jaemin laughs again. “Why do you sound like you hate Donghyuck?”

Not bothering to deny that he would never hate Donghyuck, Mark sends him a significant gaze and clarifies, “Listen, he’s like five. He sucks more of my time than anything else in my life.”

Truth to be told, Jaemin has never seen Donghyuck at the library without Mark in tow. They’re always together. It reminds him of Jeno and him, except that unlike Mark, he’s not letting Jeno go so unselfishly.

“I’m guessing both of us were dragged into this, huh?” Jaemin comments, voice extinguishing as he remembers that he did prepare for this date, but Mark stuck to the original idea: giving his friend some company in case Jaemin and Renjun turned out to be murderers.

“Please, I would third wheel a thousand times if that’s what Donghyuck needs of me,” Mark assures him with a shrug. It takes him a few seconds to understand the full meaning of Jaemin’s words, but when he does, he inspects Jaemin’s expression with interest. “Not interested in boys?”

Jaemin shakes his head. “I am.”

“Oh, so someone in particular?” Mark is more interested now, especially as instead of answering, Jaemin gulps down the words fighting to surge from his mouth. There’s always a name that fills his head when that sort of question is brought up, but Jaemin can’t tell if it’s out of habit or it holds some significance. “Complicated, I’m sensing. That boy that used to be with you two in the library?”

It’s an understatement to say that Jaemin is shocked. Throughout the years, he has been asked multiple times if Jeno is his boyfriend, but no one has ever spotted Jeno a couple of times and then asked Jaemin if they were together. Mark shouldn’t even remember that Jeno exists, should he? And yet there he is, watching Jaemin’s reaction in deep curiosity, like he’s a mystery to decipher.

“He’s like a brother to me,” Jaemin says, but the knot in his throat doesn’t allow him to explain the whole story. That they’re childhood friends, and that’s why they look so close to each other, that it’s not because they’re in love with each other. “Why would you suppose that?”

It must be evident to Mark, since he observes Jaemin like pondering if he’s really asking that. “It’s in the eyes,” he concludes in the end, tapping his own temple. “It’s so easy to tell who is falling in love, who is already in love, who is dating out of loneliness.”

Jaemin has the urge to look away from Mark. He’s not telling Jaemin with explicit words, but he’s insinuating that he can read Jaemin’s eyes as well, that Jaemin might lie all he wishes and Mark will still know the truth.

Mark pats down on Jaemin’s hand, which has become a fist over the table, and points with his head at their friends. “Look at them.”

Jaemin looks at them. Donghyuck is still laughing, eyes sparkling as he listens to Renjun’s rambling; Renjun has the same glint in his eyes, and Jaemin has never seen him talk so fast, with so much excitement, like he wants to tell Donghyuck a million things and wants to make him laugh a million times.

Jaemin wonders if he has convinced himself of his own nonexistent feelings. If he has replied that no, he’s not in love with Jeno, so many times, that his mind has erased the possibility of considering it. It’s natural, automatic, like breathing or opening his eyes in the morning. _No, I’m not in love with Jeno_. But some days Jaemin can’t open his eyes because he’s too tired, and sometimes he holds his breath in because he’s too nervous, until he realizes that he’s choking.

 

 

 

 

XI.

They abandon Renjun and Donghyuck in the middle of the dinner, though rather than abandoning them, they’re doing them a favor. Both of them say their goodbyes with slight surprise, as though they have forgotten that they weren’t alone during the last two hours.

Mark walks Jaemin home and they exchange numbers even if they’re certain they’re going to meet up again – with Renjun and Donghyuck all over each other, it would be impossible not to. In Mark’s absence and as soon as Jaemin returns to his dorm, he feels an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders. He still tells himself that it’s because he’s tired, but deep inside he’s conscious that his sixth sense is alerting him of something.

It’s not the first time he has experienced this, yet it’s a rare occurrence. Barely anyone manages to have premonitions on real time, and when they do, it’s like in Jaemin’s case: every two or three years, sometimes a decade. It’s not about their own skills, but a whole set of circumstances plus their mind state that gives way for a premonition.

Jaemin doesn’t even bother to dress with street clothes again; he grabs his keys, leaves the dorm in silence not to wake up his roommate, and strides into the hallway in his pajamas and his dog shaped slippers. Every step he takes towards Jeno’s room is a nightmare itself; his feet are leading him, so it’s not a mistake, but he hopes to change the direction at the very last moment. He doesn’t want the premonition to be about Jeno.

But it is.

He takes a deep breath that doesn’t confer him the braveness he needs, and then knocks on the door. There isn’t any response. There are subtle noises coming from inside, however, and although Jaemin might be mistaking them for an adjacent room, his heart tells him that he’s not wrong. He clutches the spare key that Jeno gave him months ago – he’s not granted permission to use it if Jeno or Jisung are inside, but Jaemin doesn’t care about that right now. There were never boundaries between them, and Jaemin hates them from the bottom of his heart.

Jisung’s indignation is terrifying when Jaemin steps into the room. The boy is kneeling in front of Jeno, who is sitting on his bed, face sunk on his hands. There are tissues everywhere, delicate sobs escaping Jeno’s mouth and tears in Jisung’s eyes as well, and Jaemin becomes petrified at the sight.

This is a moment that doesn’t belong to Jaemin. He shouldn’t have seen this, but it’s too late. Jisung’s raged eyes, full of fire, are on him, and Jeno is wiping away his tears in embarrassment. A stuttering apology escapes Jaemin’s lips, but it gets drowned as Jisung stands up and strides towards him without a single trace of fear.

“What the fuck,” Jisung sputters at him, incredulous. If it depended on Jisung, Jaemin would be involved into a fight in the next four seconds, enough time for Jisung to push him against the door and throw a good punch. “You fucking asshole.”

It’s Jeno’s voice what prevents Jisung from taking the last step, a soft, “Jisung, don’t.”

Jaemin wouldn’t give any fuck about fighting him. His priorities lie on Jeno right now, on approaching him and hugging him and asking why he’s crying. On asking what he can do to make him feel better. On apologizing because deep within, Jaemin knows it’s his fault, even though he can’t tell what happened this time.

“We didn’t open for a reason. Give me the key,” Jisung orders between gritted teeth, extending his palm upwards. Aware that he crossed a limit by entering their room, Jaemin hands the key over without any complaints. Jisung shakes his head, a glare perduring. “You have issues.”

It’s not about the invasion of privacy, because when Jaemin moves aside to look at Jeno, Jisung doesn’t hesitate to grasp the collar of his t-shirt and keep him in place. Jaemin gathers all the patience in the universe not to bat Jisung’s hand away, because though here’s no way Jisung is stronger than him, he would upset Jeno further.

“Jeno?” Jaemin calls him, pleading.

It has been too many years. One word, and Jeno understands.

“Jisung, can you give us a minute?” Jeno whispers then, but he doesn’t even lift his gaze. Jisung stares at Jaemin harder, like forcing him to leave despite Jeno’s permission to stay. “It’ll be fine.”

Fine is an exaggeration, but they have gone through stupid fights and big fights, and Jaemin isn’t going to leave and give up. Jeno is accepting his presence because he knows Jaemin is dramatic enough to sit by the door all night.

And still, when Jisung slams the door close and Jaemin finds himself alone, yet again with Jeno, he realizes that he’s not ready for this after all.

Jeno is still sobbing, clenching the edge of the bed in an attempt to prevent his body from following the harsh pulls of his chest. He never was a kid that cried a lot, and Jaemin is clumsy at this. The few instances Jeno has ever cried were for his family; when they were ten and his little brother fell from his skate and broke a leg, when his parents were on the verge of divorcing and his mother disappeared for months. He also cried when all of them pretended to forget his birthday just to give him a surprise later, and as they were surrounded by confetti, screams and laughter, Jaemin had to welcome a crying Jeno into his arms with the knowledge that Jeno wasn’t crying because he thought all his friends had forgotten about him, but because Jaemin had.

But tonight Jaemin falls on his knees and touches Jeno’s face, and his tears burn.

Jeno tries to move his hands away, visibly worried about hurting Jaemin, which is ironical, very ironical. Jaemin deserves a few burn marks, physical pain in exchange for the emotional pain he has inflicted on Jeno. That’s what their tears are for, anyhow, because when a witch cries for someone, their tears become the most harmful weapon against whoever made them cry. Jaemin’s skin swells up beneath Jeno’s tears, immediate minuscule blisters forming on his fingers, and it hurts, but it hurts less than it should.

“Stop,” Jeno reprimands him. Jaemin resists at first, and Jeno has to use all his strength to encircle his wrists and shove them against his thighs, far from his tears. Feeling like a kid with a fit of rage, Jaemin fights back, until he realizes that Jeno will feel worse if Jaemin tries to hurt himself. “Jaemin, stop. I’ll have to get you to the hospital.”

Jaemin grunts, “Do I look like I care?”

Jeno’s eyes have red vets and his cheeks are wet, his lips swollen, the salt making every tiny cut sting. The crying has been going on for a while. Maybe the whole night, since Jaemin left with Renjun for the date. It’s obvious beause Jeno doesn’t have strength to cry anymore, and it’s just sobs traveling up his throat from time to time, the shame making him look down and hide his face from Jaemin. It adds up to Jaemin’s frustration, because he wishes he could dry his tears, but Jeno is crying for him, so Jaemin can’t touch him at all.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jeno says, like that explains everything.

For a while, Jaemin respects the silence. Jeno is making an effort to calm down, and Jaemin stays there, chin on his knees, waiting and waiting. Even if Jeno would prefer not to be watched while he cries, Jaemin never retires his gaze from Jeno’s semblance, because he needs Jeno to know that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. If anyone should be ashamed, that’s Jaemin.

Jaemin can’t touch Jeno’s face, but he sits by his side and interlaces their hands. A protest dies in Jeno’s tongue, surrendering before even speaking, and Jaemin knows the reason. It’s the same reason why Jeno comforts him during times he doesn’t want to even face Jaemin.

Open secrets are a curious thing, because when Jaemin asks a question without proper explanations, Jeno doesn’t demand them.

“Why can’t we talk?” Jaemin says, because both of them are aware that they should have discussed whatever that was bothering them months ago. “Why does it have to be this way?”

Jaemin doesn’t mean to put the blame on Jeno. He’s not free from it, however; if at least one of them had taken the initiative before, they wouldn’t have reached this point, a point in which Jaemin is doubting if they have a purpose together or none at all.

Jeno isn’t embarrassed of his tears anymore. He stares at Jaemin with pure, innocent confusion, but Jaemin can sense how he clenches his fingers, like he can’t stand Jaemin’s touch. “What do you want me to tell you? That I’m in love with you? Again and again and again?”

There it is. Fear invades Jaemin, because this is not what he was planning. This is not the conversation he wanted to have. Jeno has never adapted to his plans, nonetheless, and just like last time, he’s confessing without calculating the right moment. There isn’t a right moment after all this time, Jaemin reckons. The failure of the first time precedes them, so Jeno doesn’t have anything to lose by admitting that he still loves Jaemin.

“That won’t change anything,” Jeno reproaches, voice breaking into a pained moan. He lowers his head, mildly surprised as he taps his throat, like he didn’t expect his body to betray him. “It’s not going to disappear.”

Instead of telling him what’s on his mind, Jaemin replies, “It doesn’t have to disappear.”

“It has,” Jeno contradicts him. Jaemin looks away, catching Jeno’s resigned smile out of the corner of his eyes. “It hurts.”

It must have hurt, but it’s easier for Jaemin to ignore that Jeno isn’t so hung up on him. Unconditional love, they call it. For Jaemin, it’s terrifying that Jeno can love him no matter what he does, but he also dreads that Jeno stops loving him one day.

And what Jaemin fears, over all those things, is that Jeno assumes that Jaemin wants him this way – broken, caged, to his mercy.

“That’s not what I meant, I-”

“You want me to be in love with you, Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts him. He brushes the tissue, reduced to a ball, over his eye bags, and when he gazes at Jaemin again, he does it with a bit more of confidence, his shoulders a bit firmer.  “I don’t know why, but you do. Every single time I try to move on, you bring me back on purpose. Does it stroke you ego?”

Jaemin feels helpless. All this time he reckoned that Jeno was too naïve to capture the small details of their relationship, but the truth is that Jeno had decided to be silent about it. He’s not a fool. When Jaemin slips yet another lie between them, Jeno tastes it, then chews on it and swallows it down.

Jaemin should have been scared of this conversation, yet he ignored the power Jeno has over them. He’s scared now, as Jeno looks at him and dares him to affirm that Jeno’s wrong, that Jaemin isn’t playing with his feelings.

“I’m letting you move on,” Jaemin lies, because if he says it out loud, maybe it’ll be real. He will break the invisible strings that he has wrapped around Jeno, the ones that make him glare at Jaemin, indignation all over his face. Jaemin corrects himself, “I’m trying to.”

It’s a step for Jaemin to recognize that yes, he’s holding Jeno back. But Jeno already knows that, judging the lack of reaction on his part.

“That’s a lie,” Jeno accuses him. His eyes are so, so big, or perhaps he’s too close, but Jaemin feels minuscule in comparison. It’s not a new sensation; Jaemin has always thought that when Jeno bares himself, it’s hard to handle him. He’s overwhelming. “Why did you pretend you liked Renjun just so that I wouldn’t spend so much time with him?”

Punching Jaemin in the face would have hurt less. Jaemin knows why, but he’s a coward, and if he reveals his reasons, there will no way to fix it.

Jeno laughs, pressing the tissue with his palm against his nose. It’s not a happy laugh. “You didn’t prepare an answer?” he mocks Jaemin.

Jaemin didn’t, because he never thought Jeno would confront him about it.

“I was jealous.”

Silence spreads. Jeno blinks at him, hopeful, and Jaemin feels like crying all of a sudden. “Of what?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s not a lie, for once. It might be because Jaemin doesn’t _want_ to know, but the final product is the same. Rather than calming Jeno’s nerves, it worsens them, because he shakes his head and throws the tissue away on the bed.

“Get out, then.” Jeno dries his hands on his pants, not sparing Jaemin a second glance. It’s not an unpremeditated impulse: it looks like Jeno was anticipating this moment, this nothingness Jaemin is giving him. “I should stop being your whole life. It’s ruining us.”

Jaemin curses under his breath. He should have apologized for that, since Jeno has been waiting for the apology during the whole holidays. It was stupid of Jaemin to believe that Jeno would dismiss it sooner or later, that he would forgive Jaemin for leading him on when things were so delicate between them.

Even if Jaemin has developed a bad habit of telling more lies than usual, he would have never played with Jeno on purpose. Even if there’s a voice within telling him to try, his conscience weighs more; not his conscience, maybe, but the fact that he’d prefer hurting himself to hurting Jeno.

So he meant it when he told Jeno that he was his whole life, and he means it now, when he says, “I love you.”

It doesn’t matter that Jaemin’s confession comes from a desperate place.

Jeno pales in an instant. “What?”

“I don’t know how I love you, but I do,” Jaemin continues, regretting every word as soon as they come out. This isn’t supposed to feel this way. Jeno isn’t supposed to stare at him in horror, and Jaemin shouldn’t be terrified of what he’s doing. “And-”

“Don’t go on,” Jeno cuts him. He pins Jaemin with a glower, but there are signs of weakness in the way he turns around to look outside the window, giving his back to Jaemin. His chest deflates, trembling. “If you love me, if you call this love, then you love me _bad_.”

He’s right. Jaemin clenches his jaw not to reply.

“We can’t be together, Jaemin,” Jeno says. It would be so easy to break Jeno in pieces, for Jaemin has never insinuated that they should be together, that they should take the risk and, if failure arrives, they could find a solution later. No words needed, Jeno still knows that’s what Jaemin secretly craves for, because Jaemin is impulsive and dumb and likes dealing with his problems afterwards. “I love you and I know how I love you, but you don’t. It’s not fair, and you aren’t a game for me.”

Jaemin observes the way Jeno’s fingers are holding the edge of his study table. The table is receding there where his fingers approach; the only reason Jeno doesn’t look mad at him is because he’s concentrating all his energy in his hands. He’s so angry that he can modify the matter on the spot, and Jaemin has never experienced something like that, so he stays petrified on the bed, inspecting Jeno’s nape and his hair and his arrhythmic breathing.

By the time Jeno twists on his feet to face Jaemin, he has swallowed his tears. His eyes are still glassy, but the pain has been replaced by determination.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Jeno announces, voice soft yet clear. His chest rises, and Jaemin trembles on the bed. “If you’re going to sabotage us again, you better have a good reason for it. If not, it will be over. Do you get what I mean?”

Jaemin wishes he didn’t. It’s not an ultimatum for Jaemin to clear up his mind and decide forever if he’s going to free Jeno from his hold or, on the hand, he will commit. It’s an ultimatum for their friendship too. Because Jaemin has been a horrible friend this year, crawling on Jeno’s back and scratching and covering his eyes so that he can’t see the world, and Jeno has to fly. Jeno has grown up, so he knows how to take care of himself, and if for his own good he must cut ties with Jaemin, he will.

That’s the scariest future Jaemin has imagined for them. Even if he runs away from Jeno sometimes, even if he prefers to be alone sometimes and with another person, even if he doesn’t will to confess and commit, he would be incomplete with Jeno.

At his silence, Jeno is expectant, but not pushy. Big decisions aren’t meant to be taken in the split of a second.

Anyhow, Jaemin can’t make up his mind right in that moment, because he’s missing a vital piece of information. One day he will ready to give a reply, and he’s aware of what he needs to perhaps reach that security in the next months.

“I want to do something,” Jaemin warns him. He drowns the screaming voice in his head telling him to stop, but his body is stronger than his mind, and his legs drive him to stand and walk up to Jeno. Jeno steps back, tries to, because there isn’t any more space for him to put distance between them. Jaemin’s heart beats so hard that it hurts, but he doesn’t halt until he’s close enough to squeeze Jeno’s hands over the edge of the table. Jeno grips the table harder, and Jaemin grips it with him, applying more pressure over his hands. Jeno nearly loses his balance, confused eyes roaming over Jaemin’s face. “We’ll forget it happened, and then we can start all over again.”

It’s obvious what Jaemin is talking about. His arms linger around Jeno’s waist, and Jeno closes his eyes, as though that could wash his confusion away. “What?” is all he can utter.

Jeno looks so pretty like this, Jaemin realizes, his long eyelashes intertwined and his expression filled with puzzled submission as he spreads his hands over Jaemin’s back. Jaemin’s doubts make sense at last, his continuous wondering about kissing Jeno, about finding out how it would be to risk it all for a kiss. This is the reason. This is why he likes it.

Jaemin hears himself call Jeno’s name so low that it sounds like a grumble, and Jeno doesn’t respond, but he stops breathing when Jaemin caresses up to his neck and cups the back of his head.

Jeno’s fists his shirt, torn between pulling Jaemin away or closer. Jaemin will accept any of those options, though one of them is fighting against what both of them are hoping for. Jeno asks in a whine, “Why are you doing this?”

“If it goes wrong in the end,” Jaemin begins. As words invade his head, they become a new revelation for him too, but he doesn’t feel disoriented anymore. It’s crystal clear now. “I want to have this at least.”

Jeno doesn’t oppose resistance when Jaemin inches closer and closer; he lifts his chin to give way, holding onto Jaemin like he fears that his friend will regret this in the last second. Jaemin would never. There is other sort of fear there, Jaemin notices, a fear that could become hatred with time.

Jeno’s anger dies against Jaemin’s lips. Both of them are tentative in the first contact, like they’re not sure if this is fine, like they should have a small taste and then discover if it feels good before continuing. It does. Jeno’s lips are swollen and warm from crying, and Jaemin has to drown a noise in the back of his throat at the sensation. Jeno might fear many things, but he doesn’t kiss with fear. Jaemin loses his control in the exact moment Jeno kisses back, hands rough but mouth tender, and out of the blue Jeno is on the table, draping his legs around Jaemin’s waist. Jaemin’s thighs crash against the table, but he can’t feel any pain, can feel just the warmth of Jeno’s tongue and his rushed breathing and the touch of his hands.

Even if his body screams impatience, their kisses don’t. Jaemin has waited for so long that he prefers to savor the experience, shyness mixed with desire. Jeno feels the same, driven to kiss chaste and later to lick into his mouth; a desire that sometimes drives them to just lap their tongues against each other with curiosity, like asking first, and then fuse their lips as well. With every kiss, Jeno is in a deeper daze, but Jaemin’s heart is plummeting to the bottom of his stomach.

It was a bad idea.

Jaemin forces himself to move away from Jeno, yet he makes a fatal mistake: he stares at Jeno. At Jeno, who chases after his mouth, who opens his eyes and gazes at him in a different way, like someone that has tasted venom and discovered that’s how they want to die.

“Jeno, we can’t go-” Jaemin begins, but he’s cut off by Jeno hauling him back into the kiss.

Jaemin gives up, because it’s impossible to reject something that he desires too. And like Jeno, he knows that the moment they part ways, it might be the last time they kiss. That’s the reason Jaemin feels a bit more heated up now, stroking Jeno’s neck and back, humming when Jeno doesn’t measure his strength well and pulls his hair too hard, just to stroke the zone as an apology one second later.

But they’re too close, too touchy, and it’s the time to stop this if Jaemin intends to be friends with Jeno again. So when Jeno detaches for a second to breathe in some air, Jaemin gathers all his courage and spoils the moment with a, “Jisung is waiting outside.”

Jeno lets out a small gasp. He forgot about his roommate, and Jaemin would find it funny if Jisung wasn’t going to murder him for kissing Jeno. He hopes it stays a secret between them, yet he refuses to ask that from Jeno; he would think that Jaemin is embarrassed of him, and that’s far from reality.

“Yeah. Shit,” Jeno curses, a small, disoriented laugh as he hops off from the table. He attempts to iron his shirt with his palms, an inutile idea because Jaemin has pulled at it enough to deform it forever. “Yeah.”

Jaemin doesn’t want to leave. Jeno looks at him like he doesn’t want him to leave, either.

“Goodnight,” Jaemin whispers. He traces the angle of Jeno’s cheekbone with his index finger. There aren’t full tears anymore, but his skin is still humid and Jaemin feels a burning sensation on his fingertips. “Don’t cry again, please.”

To Jaemin’s shock, Jeno sends him a tight lipped smile. A sincere one. Then he assures him, “I won’t.”

 

 

 

 

XII.

They don’t forget about it.

But to be fair, it isn’t Jaemin’s fault. It’s the mere fact that one doesn’t kiss his best friend and then forgets about it.

It’s also not the last time it happens.

They kiss two weeks later, after spending the whole day with Donghyuck’s friends. Renjun had claimed that it was necessary, that as his friends, they had the moral obligation of approving of Donghyuck. For that, evaluating the rest of his friends – apart from Mark – is essential, and that means that even after hanging out with them for hours, Renjun forces them to have dinner with them as well.

The problem is that Donghyuck has too many friends, to the extent Jaemin wonders if they’re friends and not only acquaintances. They’re as loud as Donghyuck is, and while Renjun doesn’t have any problem with that, Jeno does. Renjun would never notice, for his attention is always either on Donghyuck or on food, but Jaemin sticks to Jeno the whole day, prepared to fly off with him if the situation becomes too overwhelming. Jeno is a boy of small circles, of silence, and when he reaches his limit, accidents happen.

It’s strange to feel that he’s Jeno’s home again, the den he hides in because among this bunch of boys, Jaemin is the only one who understands him. Jeno presses his cheek against Jaemin’s arm, hands playing with his sleeve, as he observes Jaemin’s phone screen. It’s comfortable, because the conversation streams well among Donghyuck’s friends and Renjun, and when they direct their attention towards them, it’s Jaemin who replies. Jeno relaxes against him every time, a small silent thank you with his body.

Jeno can’t escape forever. Jaemin smells it from afar, because one of Donghyuck’s friends, Yukhei, has been stealing glances at Jeno from time to time. Jeno is oblivious, sunk in the warmness of Jaemin’s embrace. Yukhei addresses Jeno without detours, like a tsunami crashing over the table and drenching both Jaemin and Jeno.

“I have seen you around,” Yukhei points out with an enchanting smile full of teeth.

Jaemin doesn’t understand how he does it: his face reveals a pureness that is hard to find, the sort that makes you trust him right away. Yukhei looks like he doesn’t even know the concept of ulterior motives.

Jeno tenses up, looking first at Yukhei, then at Jaemin – as though Jaemin could explain it to him – and then back at Yukhei. “Me?” he asks, as if he was supposed to be invisible.

“Yeah. I’m in one of your classes,” Yukhei adds. His eyes glitter, and without holding back or hiding his enthusiasm, he continues, “Your presentation about violence and sexism in literature as a plot device was amazing.”

Jaemin has the odd, drilling urge to roll his eyes. Yet Renjun is staring right at him, observing his reaction, and Jaemin isn’t disposed to give him a reason to scold him. Renjun would kill him if he dared to do anything that could destroy the atmosphere, so Jaemin makes an effort to remain neutral.

“I-” Jeno starts, squirming. Jaemin catches Donghyuck wiggling his eyebrows at Yukhei, who deliberately ignores him. Even though Jaemin can’t see it, he feels the smile in Jeno’s voice, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Yukhei shoots back, cool.

Yukhei is easy-going, confident and after leaving the restaurant, he approaches Jeno to chat him up. Jaemin stays behind, Donghyuck’s arm around his shoulders – and Jaemin doesn’t believe in conspiracies, but he’s certain that Donghyuck is keeping him away from Jeno and Yukhei on purpose. Jaemin isn’t going to do anything, anyway. Jeno doesn’t need him, because it’s evident that he’s comfortable with Yukhei; he laughs at his jokes, though Yukhei laughs louder, and not even once during the walk to the taxi stop does he gaze back at Jaemin.

When they separate from the group, perhaps Jaemin pulls Jeno’s hand harder than usual. But that’s all. That’s all he can do without breaking the last opportunity Jeno granted him.

Renjun bids them goodbye, since he’s going to stay with Donghyuck for longer, and the rest disperse. Jaemin insists in accompanying Jeno to his room, though it’s a strategy to avoid being alone and start comparing himself to Yukhei – to avoid remembering the accusatory look Renjun threw at him, warning him not to do something crazy. To his relief, Jeno doesn’t find the offer weird, and they enter their building’s elevator holding hands.

“What’s wrong?” Jeno questions him as soon as the elevator moves up.

It’s fucked up that Jeno has noticed, but what did Jaemin expect? He hasn’t done a great job at concealing his unhappiness. “Nothing is wrong,” he replies, stare fixed on the buttons. He still senses Jeno’s eyes on him, worried. “What do you mean?”

“We agreed not to lie anymore.”

“I also promised you something.” Jaemin lets out a bitter, small scoff. It’s terribly unfair that Jeno is pushing his patience like this. Jaemin is doing his best, and he doesn’t deserve more complications. “It’s either lying or breaking the promise, and I know which one I’m choosing.”

Nervous, Jeno shuffles on his feet and lets go of Jaemin’s hand. That’s understandable, so Jaemin presses his back against the elevator’s mirror and gives Jeno his time, his space. Maybe he should have kept lying for the sake of their comfort, but this might teach Jeno not to pry too much next time.

However, Jeno slides in front of him, breathing heavily, and Jaemin’s heart almost leaps out of his ribcage when Jeno cups his face between his hands.

“Wh-?” Jaemin begins.

Jeno’s lips seal his question. And yes, Jaemin doesn’t comprehend what’s happening, but his brain refuses to function while Jeno kisses him. It’s different this time, but Jeno’s desperation remains the same as he tugs Jaemin towards his mouth, once and again and again, gasps falling out after every kiss. Jaemin can barely move, his fingers hesitating over Jeno’s waist; Jeno makes him feel like a kid that has never kissed anyone, but Jaemin is scared that if he responds roughly – like he wants to – Jeno will reconsider what he’s doing.

The elevator announcing they have reached the floor interrupts them. Jeno backtracks as though he has been pushed by an invisible force, and Jaemin can’t help but whine, wanting more. He trails after Jeno, who is stepping back and out of the elevator, but Jeno gives him a little push so that he returns to the elevator. Jeno is more affected than he lets on, but Jaemin’s senses are sleeping, and he doesn’t notice it until the last second.

Jeno shakes his head, ordering him not to follow him. “Jisung is here tonight.”

The elevator closes.

 

 

 

XIII.

There are secrets that one keeps because of loyalty, and others that one keeps because they’re too embarrassed to share them.

For Jaemin, there is a third reason: he doesn’t have anyone to talk to. The person he used to resort to is Jeno, who isn’t an option since he’s the cause of his problems, and Renjun is in the middle. Jeno is lucky enough to have bonded with Jisung, so he can rant to him – Jisung already hates Jaemin, so throwing more wood into the fire isn’t that big of a deal. But Jaemin is alone, and at last he seeks out help from Renjun, even if it’s to liberate himself from his terrible uncertainty.

Jaemin chooses the worst moment to do so.

One of Donghyuck’s friends, Chenle, is celebrating his birthday in a couple of days, and Donghyuck has convinced them to make a huge banner to hang it up from the ceiling in his dorm. Jaemin has no idea what resources Donghyuck has, but he shows up with a banner so big that Jaemin, Mark, Donghyuck and Renjun can comfortably sit on it while painting it. They carry the banner to the most hidden hall of Donghyuck’s faculty, not asking for permission, and Jaemin wonders why he accepted this insane plan just because Renjun is whipped for Donghyuck. As if they were five years old, Donghyuck has bought some acrylic paint and demands them to use their hands, which Jaemin does, dipping his hands into the cans. Two minutes later Renjun is making fun of him, his hands clean as the paint hovers over his fingertips, reminding him that he’s a disgrace for not remembering that he’s a witch.

Dirtying himself up with paint turns out to be a stress reliever, after all, and maybe that’s why he winds up spilling the secret in front of Mark and Donghyuck as well. As soon as he speaks, Renjun knocks one of the cans over, green paint extending over the floor and Donghyuck runs to save the banner with a shriek.

“You did _what_?” Renjun asks, torn between amazement and horror.

His friends’ priorities are questionable, because they have just spilled paint on the faculty’s floor, and Jaemin isn’t going to clean that up.

“We kissed,” Jaemin repeats.

He waits for the judgment. Mark doesn’t even spare him a glance, too preoccupied with outlining the _C_ of _Chenle_ properly, but Jaemin can’t blame him for not being interested in his mess. Donghyuck is wiping the floor with tiny, inutile tissues and having what seems to be yet another fit of panic, though not even for a second he thinks of screaming at his boyfriend.

And then there Renjun is, a frown on his face, as he protests, “Why didn’t he tell me? I could have protected him from you!”

“Protect him from me? Are you kidding me? _He_ kissed me!” Jaemin fights back, not believing what he’s hearing. Shouldn’t Renjun protect Jaemin too? Why is everyone on Jeno’s side? His shoulders deflate. “I mean, at least the second time.”

To Donghyuck’s luck, Renjun is too far away to knock another can over, but he grabs one of the brushes – as thick as his hand – and points at Jaemin. “The se-” he begins, choking on his own saliva. On his knees, he approaches Jaemin bit by bit, a dark glint clouding his eyes. “How many times have you kissed him? I’m going to _literally kill_ you.”

Jaemin should have reacted faster, but in his defense, Renjun has never attacked him physically. The most he has done so far is throwing a stream of water into his face when he ate his lunch without asking first, so Jaemin doesn’t expect Renjun to jump on him, pinning him against the banner and holding the brush over his face.

“Just twice!” Jaemin replies, screaming.

He can’t help but gasp when Renjun moves the brush down and paints all over his face. Jaemin fights back, certain that Renjun has lost his goddamn head, but Renjun is gathering strength from something else besides his body – Jaemin doesn’t know from what, but they’re not supposed to use their skills on their kind, that’s just unfair.

“Just twice? _Just_? _Twice_?” Renjun imitates him, drawing a new line on Jaemin’s face with each word.

Unhelpful, Donghyuck stops cleaning and staring at the scene, he comments, “I think I have dreamed about this before.”

“Wow,” Mark says, scrunching his noise in disgust. “Don’t be gross.”

Donghyuck pointedly ignores his friend and crawls over the banner towards them. Even before Donghyuck slips his hands under Renjun’s armpits, Jaemin already knows that Donghyuck pities him enough to rescue him. Renjun, who would have fought anyone else, doesn’t oppose resistance to Donghyuck.

Free, Jaemin sits up with a gasp, and then moans when he touches his full painted face. Mark cackles at him.

“What’s the problem?” Donghyuck asks Jaemin. He pats the banner so that Renjun sits next to him, and Renjun obeys without a second thought; Jaemin feels safe until Renjun lifts the brush to threaten him again. “I thought you were already dating?”

“They aren’t,” Mark replies in Jaemin’s place. “But they should.”

If Jaemin has learned something during these weeks of adapting to Donghyuck’s friends, is that Mark is a busybody. And of course, he retains all the information, _forever_ , which means that Jaemin spilled more than he should have in their first encounter. Thus Mark remembers every little thing Jaemin said about Jeno, how close they are, how much Jaemin loves him; and what Jaemin hasn’t said with words, Mark has captured it _in Jaemin’s eyes_ , as he calls it.

Donghyuck hands him one of the tissues, half dirty, and Jaemin accepts it in resignation. “We shouldn’t. We discussed it, actually – stop looking at me like that, Renjun, I don’t have to tell you everything – and we don’t want to risk our friendship just for a bad attempt at dating.”

Mark sends him a terrible smirk, “What friendship?”

“Fuck you, Mark.”

“Just saying. It’s not a friendship if you want to date him.”

They have been doing that for years, however, so Jaemin won’t buy that argument. “Sure it is.”

With a shrug, Mark returns to his precious letter on the banner. Donghyuck and Renjun aren’t that convinced by Jaemin’s reasoning, and Jaemin swears that there isn’t anything scarier than watching them exchange a look filled with intention. It also makes Jaemin jealous, because they haven’t been going out for long and yet they communicate so well, no words needed.

Renjun stamps the brush against the banner and redirects his attention to Jaemin, “Why did you kiss him?”

Even if Jaemin’s first response is to defend himself, that’s not his aim. The purpose of baring the truth to Renjun is receiving advice, lifting the weight off his shoulders, and for that Jaemin has to come clean. Renjun might kill him, but he isn’t going to judge him, which is what worries Jaemin the most.

“Because I needed it,” he confesses. Besides a primal urge, because his mind had insisted for weeks that Jeno’s lips were made to be kissed, the other motive was that Jaemin didn’t have the certainty that they were only friends. Kissing a friend shouldn’t wake up anything within him – shouldn’t have. “I mean, I thought it would help me to confirm that I don’t like him that way.”

Jaemin bites his lower lip, the words stuck in his throat. Three pairs of eyes stare at him in expectation. “And?” Donghyuck pushes him, impatient.

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t know. Does he love Jeno? Yes. Romantically? Maybe, Jaemin has never loved anyone that way, so there isn’t any previous model for him to compare. Would he take the next step, well aware that he doesn’t deserve Jeno and that Jeno will grow to hate him as time passes by? No.

“This is so annoying,” Donghyuck grumbles. He throws his head onto Renjun’s shoulder, exasperated. “How do you deal with him on a daily basis?”

“Fuck you too, Hyuck, I’m here making your stupid banner, you know?”

Donghyuck deflates like a punctured balloon, disappointed. The kid that once threatened to kick Jaemin and Renjun out of the library is long gone, and Jaemin has discovered that Donghyuck is pretty sensitive and moody, the latter explaining why he acts so impulsively sometimes.

“My banner isn’t stupid. I can’t say the same about you, though,” Donghyuck retorts, offended.

The last thing Jaemin sees before being shoved down is Renjun’s brush. Once again.

 

 

 

 

XIV.

People are predictable.

It doesn’t come off as a surprise that, before the spring break, Yukhei asks Jeno on a date. Since it follows a pattern, Jaemin has been preparing himself for it, thus he smiles and nods when Jeno informs him. Like he doesn’t care. Because of Jeno’s ultimatum, he can’t care until he’s certain about his feelings; it’s forbidden.

Yukhei and Jeno fit each other as though they were created for that purpose. Yukhei’s outgoing personality pulls Jeno out of his shell when he needs it, makes everything easier for him – Jaemin remembers that’s why Jeno doesn’t get on well with persons similar to him, because they feed into a loop that becomes boring very fast. Jeno is happy around Yukhei, comfortable, and when all of them are together, Renjun keeps checking Jaemin’s state if Jeno shows Yukhei affection. After a while, Renjun becomes used to it too, and Jaemin learns that it’s time to stop obsessing over them.

It’s not that easy.

Jeno kisses him after his first date with Yukhei. He shows up at Jaemin’s room, fiddling with his hands, and before Jaemin can ask what’s wrong, if the date was fine, if Jeno fucked up, Jeno’s lips are on his. It’s three in the morning, and Jaemin’s roommate curses at them when Jaemin trips back and shuts the door open by accident. Yet Jeno doesn’t apologize: he backtracks, stunned, and leaves Jaemin without explanations.

People are predictable, but Jeno isn’t.

Jaemin keeps the secret, conscious that it’s just another mistake on Jeno’s book and nothing else. Yukhei and he haven’t advanced beyond the phase of getting to know each other, and Jaemin has the chance of ruining it before it progresses, but he doesn’t. Jeno can kiss whoever he wants as long as he’s not dating Yukhei.

There’s no option for Jaemin but to make a ball out of his heart and stuff his feelings there, forcing himself not to be selfish. He sits with Jeno in cafés and holds his hand under the table, and they talk about Yukhei, about how funny he is, about his family and his siblings. The way Jeno smiles makes it impossible for Jaemin to hate Yukhei. There’s a certain duality in Jeno, because he’s both the boy that kisses him at three in the morning and the boy that looks enamored of Yukhei in the daylight. Jaemin wouldn’t bet that it’s love, but it’s something, and he’s not a master at deciphering feelings.

After a third kiss, there’s a fourth. With a hunch blooming in his chest, Jaemin hesitates, doubts if he should open the door for Jeno and allow him to make the same mistake. Jeno knocks twice, three times, and Jaemin’s resolution faints.

His own consolation is that Jaemin tries to meddle, even if he loses all his strength as he fixes his eyes on Jeno, who has his hair slicked up and eyeliner in the inner part of his eyelids. He’s far from the boy that wears his messy, black hair over his eyes and drowns in big, pastel colored sweaters.

Jaemin loses the ability to breath for a second, and then he sputters what he rehearsed before opening, “Jeno, I don’t know what you’re doing but-”

It’s not a simple kiss this time. There’s rage in how Jeno pushes Jaemin inside, in his shining eyes when he realizes that Jaemin is alone tonight. They kiss and bite and pull, there are hands beneath their clothes and laughter, precious laughter falling between their kisses. Jaemin feels happy for the first time in a long time. He loves kissing Jeno, feeling bewitched and whole and infinite.

And then, when Jeno falls asleep against him, his street jacket still on, Jaemin feels lost.

Three weeks after the spring break ends, Jeno and Yukhei become official. According to Donghyuck, Yukhei asks him first during a bowling date and Jeno doesn’t need to think about it twice.

Jeno never kisses Jaemin again.

 

 

 

 

XV.

“What are we celebrating?”

Celebrating is a big word. It’s sarcasm too, Jaemin realizes as he stares at Mark across the table. They don’t frequent bars like this one, but that’s the exact reason Jaemin has summoned Mark here: because none of their friends will run into them. Mark is observing their surroundings with big, interested eyes, and he doesn’t question Jaemin’s intentions. Perhaps he knows them but chooses not to reveal it, since it would upset Jaemin.

Jaemin reaches out to share a toast with Mark, who laughs and follows along. “Love, life, and misery,” Jaemin concludes.

This is what Jaemin’s mother warned him once upon a time, but there he is, disposed to drown his heartache in alcohol. Mark seems to deem it a good idea as well, and Jaemin trusts his critical faculty enough – at least tonight, when it favors him. He has never tried this technique before, so having Mark around is a necessity in case being drunk worsens Jaemin’s state of mind. The aim is forgetting, not regretting what he did the next day.

“Aha,” Mark agrees. He wiggles his eyebrows at Jaemin, but his tone is serious as he adds, “Date me.”

“Screw you.”

“Fake date me?” he tries again, tilting his head to the side. A small slanted smile appears on his face. “All our friends are dating each other, they won’t be shocked.”

“Fake date you,” Jaemin repeats, amused. “Mark, do you read fics?”

“Pointing fingers is rude, witch.”

It’s obvious why Mark is proposing this. He’s too nice for his own good, always ready to lend anyone a hand, yet it’s surprising that he’s disposed to involve himself in a mess of such caliber. Jaemin must look damn pitiful in his eyes for Mark to prioritize him over his other friends; for example, Yukhei. Or maybe Mark hasn’t considered his plan that far ahead. One of them is always going to hurt.

Jaemin snickers, then takes another shot. He let Mark choose their drinks, and whatever it is, it burns like hell.

“I’m not trying to make anyone jealous, dude, I already told you that Jeno is like my brother,” he assures, feeling the déjà vu on the tip of his tongue.

Calling Jeno a brother after so many kisses is odd, but that’s the allegation Jaemin has to cling to. The official version of their relationship. Unless Jeno has snitched on them, none of their friends are aware of the last two kisses, and Jaemin isn’t about to destroy their privacy. Though the last one was much more than a kiss. It fucked Jaemin up much more.

Mark rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to point out the disgusting part of saying that about him, given your record.” He pushes his drink over the table, towards Jaemin. “Drink mine too.”

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to take up on the offer. “You’re an angel,” he compliments.

The bad news is that Jaemin’s strategy works. Jeno becomes a small thought in the back of his head that, every time it flourishes, becomes funnier and funnier in Jaemin’s opinion. As they leave the bar, Mark’s arm around his shoulders, Mark claims that this is how one develops alcoholism. Jaemin can’t disagree. He’d do this every night if that granted him the chance of not giving a fuck about Jeno, about Jeno and Yukhei, about Jeno and his black eyes, about the way he shrugs his shoulders when he laughs and the way Jaemin feels when Jeno laughs.

Jaemin should drink more.

 

 

 

 

XVI.

Jeno dating Yukhei is a patience challenge for Jaemin.

Out of the blue, the ultimatum makes sense: the temptation was weaker before, but witnessing Jeno with another man decreases Jaemin’s self-control. It’s not jealousy, not with the whole meaning of the word, it’s frustration. Frustration because he’s dying to meddle in, to say, _hey, Jeno isn’t yours_. Jeno is no one’s, after all, but he’s the farthest to be Jaemin’s.

The ache doesn’t dissipate, but Jaemin manages to muffle it. The first time he sees Yukhei and Jeno holding hands hurts, the second hurts a little less, the third doesn’t induce any pain, just disappointment. Jaemin convinces himself that he can do this, he can live a life in which Jeno is in love with someone else, in which he’s relegated to his best friend, but not the most important person for him. Jaemin deserves it, for sure. While Jeno has learned to share him and has allowed him to expand his horizons, to have more friends and other healthy relationships, Jaemin is still struggling.

But there’s a breach in Jaemin’s convincement. He has put up with Jeno being affectionate around Yukhei, with Jeno talking about him with sparks in his eyes – Jaemin would even say that in those moments he feels happy because Jeno sounds happy – and with Jeno spending more time with Yukhei than with him. If he has surpassed all that, it’s because he’s capable of getting over Jeno.

Then Yukhei’s birthday comes, and Jaemin realizes the huge breach in his reasoning: he has never seen them kiss. And it hits him with full force.

Jeno has kissed two boys in his entire life, one of which he’s never going to kiss ever again, and the other is Yukhei. It’s full of irony that the physical comfort Jeno has with Yukhei, the way he holds onto his waist as they kiss, becomes that frontier Jaemin didn’t know exists. It’s full of irony because it has been a long time since he lost Jeno emotionally.

Jaemin kneels in front of the toilet, Mark soothing him with calming words and caresses, and wonders if his tears would burn Jeno’s skin.


	2. The witch who loved a secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaemin is the love of his life. Of this life and the next one and the next one, every single life, no matter how many lives Jeno experiences as a witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is a [haetae](http://koreabizwire.com/haetae-the-much-loved-mascot-of-korea/100121), appears later in the story :)

XIV.

Jeno is unhappy, until he isn’t.

Destiny has never been fair to him, thus Jeno should have suspected that his attempts at having a normal life would fail. Destiny has always laughed at him, in his face, since the moment it decided to put Jaemin in his life.

“It’s you or no one,” Jaemin says, voice broken and devastated. “It’s not- I’m not lying, I’m not pressuring. I don’t mind being alone. With you or alone, Jeno.”

Jeno shouldn’t have come back home with Jaemin. It brought too many memories for the both of them. But he did, and now he watches as Jaemin looks outside his window, back facing the inside of Jeno’s room.

Jeno’s room hasn’t changed since he left; in fact, it hasn’t changed since Jeno was fifteen, because he wanted it to become a bubble in time. There are sparkling stickers of moons and stars everywhere, hanging off the ceiling, and they shine in the darkness as much as the real moon and stars do. Their light falls on Jaemin’s hair, on the curve of his exposed back, and hypnotizes Jeno.

Jaemin used to tell him that, in Jeno’s room, he felt that they would never age. It’s funny that they’re here together again, looking like men instead of children at last. Jeno doesn’t fit in his bed anymore, and Jaemin’s head brushes against the hanging stars when he moves.

With you or alone, Jeno wants to agree. Jaemin is the love of his life. Of this life and the next one and the next one, every single life, no matter how many lives Jeno experiences as a witch.

But Jeno can’t lie: there’s Yukhei. And if Jaemin says another word, he will sabotage them, because a simple word from Jaemin can haul Jeno through mud and blood and the most extreme pain.

Jaemin slants to his side, enough to stare at Jeno, who is curled up in bed. His side profile is the most beautiful thing Jeno has ever seen. “I love you,” Jaemin whispers.

This is the story of how Na Jaemin ruined Jeno’s life for the last time.

 

 

 

 

I.

It’s all about the timing.

Donghyuck bends towards him, a smirk on his lips, and says, “You should give him a chance.”

All in all, Jeno hasn’t been too discreet while he observed Yukhei. They’re playing darts by shifts, and the moment Jeno refused to join them, Yukhei didn’t hesitate to drag him all the way to the dartboard and put a dart in his hand. Jeno laughed it off, surrendering, but after a few rounds he has managed to move back and fuse himself with the wall. Not in a literal way, even if he could have camouflaged himself with a simple snap of his fingers.

He has been staring at Yukhei since then, a smile on his lips as Yukhei screams, protests and laughs. Donghyuck catches on fast, however, and accompanies him in his adventure against the wall.

Donghyuck’s proposal isn’t new, for Jeno has already considered it before. Jeno likes Donghyuck’s friends; moreover, he’s grateful for them. Having Jaemin as the center of his life, when Jaemin doesn’t love Jeno back but he looks at him like he wishes he could love him, is asphyxiating.

Jeno lifts his eyebrows, playing hard, “A chance at what?”

A punch lands on Jeno’s arm, but Donghyuck ignores that hitting a witch can hurt him more than the target, and therefore ends up whistling between his teeth.

He shakes his hand, pitiful, and assures, “Yukhei doesn’t get interested in anyone that easily, you know?” Donghyuck continues, ignoring Jeno’s laugh. “His attention is flicker. He doesn’t have enough of it to stop and realize who is around him, but sometimes he finds a hole in his surroundings and he has to fix the problem.”

“Are you calling me a hole?”

“You are the hole, yes,” Donghyuck confirms, a mischievous smile extending on his face. “Yukhei’s life is all noise. When you’re in it, you’re so silent that you’re like an abysm. A _hole_. Then he notices.”

It’s hard to ignore the fact that Donghyuck is describing him as a hole, because Jeno wants to tell him that he’s ridiculous. If anything, Jeno has trained his skills to go unnoticed, not to be the dissonant element that stands out. To some extent, it attracts a certain sort of people, Jeno supposes: Jaemin, since the beginning, because he was the first one to approach him when they were kids. And now Yukhei. Jeno can’t tell what the common point is.

Still, Donghyuck’s choice of words is unusual, and Jeno can’t help but point out, “You read the poetry book I gave you, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I read it to Renjun, actually,” Donghyuck admits right away, not even a bit ashamed of it. Jeno can imagine them lying down in bed while Donghyuck recites the book, and he can imagine Renjun biting down on his lips every time Donghyuck recites at the wrong pace. “He loved it.”

Jeno makes a face. “You two are vomit inducing.”

“Thank you,” Donghyuck beams at him, as though that’s his best achievement up to date. Maybe it is. Handling Renjun is quite difficult.

Donghyuck’s proposal or not, Jeno made his decision a while back. From the moment Jaemin kissed him, Jeno became aware that he couldn’t let Jaemin into his head that way. He already was in his heart, but they had never crossed the physical limit, and it had taken Jeno two seconds to realize that it was too dangerous. Jaemin _is_ dangerous, and Jeno’s legs are fast to bring him far away from the danger.

 

 

 

 

II.

The first thing Jeno learns in university is that outer appearances are misleading.

Everyone thinks that because Jeno is quiet, he’s weak. That he’s shy, unable to take care of himself, unable to go further in life. When Renjun comes into the picture, Jeno feels understood. Witches aren’t weak, and all of them know.

Outer appearances are misleading because everyone thinks that Jaemin is strong thanks to his self-confidence. Jeno knows better. Jaemin is fragile. Not weak, but fragile. He breaks with the strength of a delicate breeze and recomposes himself once and once again.

Until he decides to kiss Jeno, pushing him against the study table and tasting Jeno’s mouth with a tenderness that is foreign to both of them. Then, Jaemin doesn’t manage to recompose himself.

Witches aren’t weak, but Jeno’s weakness is Jaemin. Jeno has lived during all these years without his romantic love, and he’s positive that he can move on – he’s going to love Jaemin forever, but he can love other boys too, can build a life apart from him. The problem is that when Jaemin breaks down, Jeno can’t look away from him. The only person in his vision is Jaemin. Jaemin glaring at Yukhei across the table just because he addressed Jeno, Jaemin holding onto his waist with desperate, possessive fingers sinking in his belt; Jaemin being terribly silent while they walk back to the dorms, refusing to express himself and tell Jeno what’s wrong.

That night, Jeno kisses Jaemin in the elevator because Jaemin looks broken, and Jeno wants to put all his pieces together. However, Jaemin breaks into smaller pieces.

 

 

 

 

III.

It’s a matter of time that their secrets get exposed.

Somehow, it’s karma, because Jeno shouldn’t be able to get away with kissing his best friend after warning him to stop playing with his heart. Tables have turned, and Jeno holds all the power, because he decides when he can kiss Jaemin, if he can kiss Jaemin. If Jaemin takes the step, it will be considered _sabotaging,_ but it’s fine if it’s Jeno. He has Jaemin in a cage.

Renjun hates the news. Jeno should have supposed this would happen, yet he’s still surprised when Renjun jumps on him two weeks after his second kiss with Jaemin. To be fair, Renjun doesn’t even reside in their building, which means that he has woken up at seven in the morning just to grab Jeno by the back of his shirt and interrupt his breakfast. Jeno doesn’t fight back as Renjun hauls him outside the lunch room, because he’s aware that Renjun doesn’t have any inconvenient with making a scene in public if necessary, and Jeno hates drawing attention to himself. Plus, it’s never a good idea to anger a boy like Renjun.

Renjun corners him in the game room, which at this time is completely empty – during weekends there might be people that stayed the whole night up and are still fooling around there, but it’s Tuesday. Jeno could surrender right away, but he doesn’t, standing firm as Renjun pushes him against the back of one of the sofas.

Renjun holds his neck so that Jeno can’t divert his gaze, and grunts, “Why in the world did you give Jaemin an ultimatum?”

To be honest, Jaemin could have confided in one of his classmates instead of resorting to Renjun. But Jeno reckons that the topic is too serious for him to spread it around, and Renjun is the only person they can trust.

Jeno answers a simple, soulless, “I’m forgetting him.”

He isn’t. And Renjun doesn’t need to point that out, since Jeno has explicitly confessed that he has feelings for Jaemin not long ago. In fact, a part of Jeno suspects that Donghyuck and Renjun are setting him up with Yukhei in an attempt to help him move forward. Renjun seems to regret it, however, and Jeno can’t blame him. Involving one of their friends into the mess that Jaemin and Jeno have created for themselves is a disgrace, yet Renjun must have believed him when Jeno assured that he liked Yukhei enough to turn the page. God, he likes Yukhei. But he can see the fear in Renjun’s eyes, in how he has realized that’s not going to be enough.

“You can’t fool me. He told me you kissed him,” Renjun reproaches.

Jeno didn’t expect Jaemin to reveal that, so he shoots back, “A kiss is just a kiss.”

It sounds ridiculous even to his own ears. A kiss is just a kiss when you’re not kissing the boy you have loved for years. Kissing Jaemin means the world to him, as pathetic and sad as it is. 

“Jeno,” Renjun calls him. He loosens up, realizing that Jeno isn’t being an asshole on purpose, just as a defense mechanism. Renjun has always given him good advice, but following it is pretty difficult if Jeno’s heart wants to do the opposite. “Both of you are hurting.”

“So? What’s new?”

Renjun frowns at him, disapproving yet with a glint of pity. “For fuck’s sake, why is your skin so thick?”

Jeno has grown used to this, to being hurt. With time Jeno has learned to cohabit with the pain of knowing that Jaemin will never love him back, at least until Jaemin kissed him. Jeno should have pushed him away, because it was like having a taste of everything Jeno has ever wanted, but he hadn’t, and the consequences are pouring on him with the force of a hundred cascades.

“Listen. He was playing in the shadows,” Jeno defenses himself, and Renjun looks skeptical at his choice of words.  “So I told him that if he tried to play with me again, it would be over. And he accepted, but _had_ to kiss me before letting me go. He destroyed himself with that, and do you think I’m heartless? Do you think I just made my feelings evaporate?”

That shuts Renjun up, for he backs away with a sigh. It doesn’t convince him, however, and he still stares at Jeno with an expression full of judgment.

Jeno sighs along. “Plus, a kiss for a kiss. It’s just fair.”

_Unbelievable_ , Renjun mouths as he shakes his head. His tenacity disappears, maybe because he understands Jeno, or because he can’t take sides since both of his friends are acting like madmen. Neither Jaemin nor Jeno are being very considerate of each other.

“This is why I don’t date other witches. You all are fucked up in the head,” Renjun remarks, very certain of his own statement.

It’s not the first time Jeno hears that. While he hasn’t had an extensive love life, Jaemin has confronted several situations in which he was called a witch in a derogative way after breaking a relationship. They laughed about it together every time, and Jeno doesn’t remember when it stopped. _Why do they think it’s a bad thing?_ Jaemin used to say. Jeno always wanted to tell him that there wasn’t wrong with him, in him.

“If you’re going to let Jaemin go, then do it, yeah?” Renjun continues, careful, analyzing Jeno’s silence as though he fears that he’s about to explode. Jeno is calm though, because he’s aware of what he’s doing wrong and why, and why he can’t stop it. Renjun must read the truth in his face, because he whispers a desperate, “Don’t pull him back.”

 

 

 

 

IV.

Jeno pulls him back. A few times.

It’s not on purpose. Jeno has promised himself that his chances with Jaemin are nonexistent, that they have enjoyed two kisses and, since Jaemin isn’t taking action, it means that he doesn’t want to go beyond that.

His determination is short-lived, but before Jeno falls into his own trap, there are distractions that prevent him from thinking about Jaemin. Yukhei is the main one. One afternoon after having lunch at Donghyuck’s building, Yukhei accompanies him to a café, and right when Jeno drinks the last sip of his coffee, Yukhei asks him on a date.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Yukhei assures him, mildly scared at how long Jeno is taking to answer. “No hard feelings.”

But Jeno says yes. It’s not an impulsive decision: he sits in front of Yukhei for a couple of minutes, gazing at his wide, expectative eyes, and catches a glimpse of what their future could be like. It’s a comforting future; maybe not exciting, but Jeno shouldn’t live off of the rush of adrenaline.

They don’t have the opportunity to be discreet about their date. Yukhei tells Donghyuck before Jeno can warn him not to involve others. It’s done from a naïve place, and Jeno doesn’t hold it against him, because later he realizes that this is saving him from the pain of telling Jaemin himself. News spread, Jaemin knows, Jeno doesn’t have to justify his decision. For their friendship, Jeno still tells Jaemin as casually as possible, and Jaemin fakes his smile as best as he can.

For their first date, Yukhei brings him to a play that one of his friends is collaborating in. It’s a low cost place with random, cheap chairs for the audience, and they sit in the back. The play is good, Yukhei’s comments – sometimes funny, sometimes intriguing – are better, and Yukhei’s hand slipping into his in the middle of the play is the pinnacle. After the play, Yukhei introduces him to his other friends, and all of them have heard about Jeno. Yukhei isn’t a man of secrets; humans aren’t, in general, but secrets are a vital part of a witch. They don’t stay with Yukhei’s friends, since they prefer to spend the evening alone and they wind up in a simple, traditional restaurant. Jeno already knows that Yukhei, beneath his loudness, is an intelligent creature, but the private dinner confirms it. Jeno is comfortable with that, and when they part ways, both of them agree that it was great, that they would love to do this again.

It isn’t until later, when Jeno enters the elevator completely alone, that he notices the fault in their date. Yukhei’s hand is way bigger than Jeno’s, so they don’t fit perfectly when they hold hands, and Jeno’s hand is drowned in an asphyxiating warmness. It’s too overwhelming. Jaemin’s hand has always been a wonderful fit. Yukhei’s eyes are pretty, but they don’t stare at Jeno like he’s the only person in the world – Jaemin’s eyes do. Yukhei smiles all the time, a smile that shows the most childish part of him. Jaemin smiles are rare, for his semblance carries a serious, harsh air, but when Jaemin smiles at Jeno, he makes flowers bloom in Jeno’s stomach.

When the elevator halts, Jeno notices that he has reached the wrong floor. His fingers have pushed the wrong buttons, and despite being conscious that he should let the doors close and hide himself in the back of the elevator, away from the temptation, he steps into the hall.

Jaemin is wearing only his pajama trousers when he responds his call. Upon recognizing Jeno, his confusion is so sincere that it’s adorable, but the trail of relief as Jeno cups his face is heart-wrenching in a marvelous way. Kissing Jaemin for the third time feels like drinking water after crossing a desert. And Jeno is too thirsty, too enthusiastic, and never wants to set foot in the desert again.

Daylight brings Jeno’s logic back, and a new found pain: Jaemin’s excellent skills at pretending that there’s nothing between them, that they didn’t kiss last night, that Jaemin didn’t smile against his lips. Yet Jeno is great at pretending too, and ignoring his mistakes is easier than fixing them.

“I want to see your tricks,” Yukhei tells him on the second date, a grin brightening his expression. “Renjun always tells me to shut up and stop bothering him.”

They’re sitting by the edge of the river, a river that is just four miles away from the campus. It’s flanked by fake sand, and people bring their blankets for comfort, which is exactly what Yukhei has done. He only brought one blanket for them to cover up, however, and at night it becomes so chill that they have to share the blanket, pressed against each other. It’s a beautiful place, a beautiful moment, and beautiful company.

“You want to see a trick?” Jeno repeats, not believing that Yukhei is requesting this as though Jeno was a regular magician.

Yukhei nods, excited, and Jeno is torn between reprimanding him or complying. Unlike Renjun, Jeno never shows off. It draws unwanted attention, but the most important reason is that not everyone accepts them like Yukhei does. Perhaps Yukhei needs a lesson, Jeno realizes.

Under Yukhei’s vigilance, Jeno holds up his fist, firmly closed but calm, and then extends his fingers like a flower opening up in the morning. When his palm is exposed, Yukhei’s head immediately shoots back, and Jeno reaches out so that he doesn’t fall – the blanket aids him, preventing Yukhei’s whole body from collapsing. Jeno observes him for a second, trying not to laugh at the frozen expression in Yukhei’s face, and then he wraps his fingers into a fist, returning to the original position.

Yukhei recovers his autonomy, opens his eyes and his mouth as though he’s lacking oxygen. He’s not scared though, but fascinated, and glances at Jeno with a faint blush on his cheeks. “What the fuck was that?”

“I stunned you,” Jeno explains, satisfied with the results. His mother used to forbid him to make use of this sort of magic, so Jeno didn’t have many chances to practice it. And since he doesn’t fight anyone, it can only be performed on voluntary persons. Like Yukhei. “It only works on humans.”

“That’s so-” Yukhei begins, gasping for air. “Fitting. You, stunning.”

Luckily for Jeno, it’s too dark for Yukhei to notice that he’s concealing a red tint on his cheeks as well. Even if Yukhei’s compliment – the bad yet not intended flirting – makes him nervous, Jeno can’t affirm that it stirs something within. Somehow, Jeno suspects that his embarrassment comes from the fact that Yukhei is impressed at his skills, but that he’d be equally please if the praise came from another person.

“Wow, Renjun only does cute tricks.”

Jeno shrugs, a small laugh escaping through his teeth, “I don’t have cute tricks.”

“Just dangerous tricks?” Yukhei asks, serious. For the sake of playing with his gullible mind, Jeno nods, and Yukhei believes him. “You’re full of surprises.”

That night, tucked in bed, Jeno can’t stop thinking about Jaemin. Jaemin’s best tricks are intimate. When they were ten years old, Jaemin began using one of his tricks on Jeno every time they were alone – he would hover his fingers over Jeno’s arms, back, neck, never touching him, but his magic made Jeno feel the ghost of a touch. Sometimes Jaemin used it when he thought Jeno was asleep. Sometimes he claimed that he was using the trick, but he was touching Jeno with his fingertips, a little kid and his little mischief. Jeno always let him. When they were thirteen, Jaemin stretched that trick to his lips. He hovered over Jeno’s neck, over his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and Jeno could feel the ghost of a kiss landing on his skin; he gasped every time, but he never felt embarrassed. It was something they weren’t supposed to do, and both of them were aware of it. That was why they startled if they heard their moms walking up the stairs to look for them, or why both of them sported an innocent, comfortable blush on their faces afterwards.

Yukhei might think Jeno is full of surprises, but the biggest surprise that Jeno holds is that he kisses Jaemin after his fifth date with Yukhei. It’s a completely conscious decision this time. Jeno runs to Jaemin because it’s the last time, because he likes Yukhei and Yukhei likes him, and when they say goodbye at the end of the date, Jeno can see the hesitation in Yukhei’s eyes. Jeno steps back before Yukhei can conclude that it’s time to kiss him, and Yukhei assumes that Jeno is oblivious of his intentions. But Yukhei is right. It’s time. Jeno wants to kiss him too.

Jaemin is alone at the dorm that night, and Jeno loses any shame that he has ever experienced. He loses awareness of what he’s doing too, but he knows that it feels right, wonderful, to let himself fall in Jaemin’s arms without any doubt. And Jaemin might not love him, but he grabs and touches like he isn’t disposed to let Jeno go; Jeno wishes that he wouldn’t. After all, the ultimatum remains alive, and as Jeno falls asleep in Jaemin’s embrace, he figures out that Jaemin will never risk their friendship, that Jeno will have to scream at him and tear him apart for him to take action. Perhaps it’s not worth the pain, perhaps they’re wasting their time and feelings on each other.

It’s their last kiss for a reason.

 

 

 

 

V.

Jeno crosses the line well aware of what he’s doing, but the moment he does, the circle closes with a click.

Then the calm arrives. And even if humans have a saying about an upcoming storm, Jeno doesn’t believe in it. His relationship with Yukhei progresses step by step, and when they reach the final step, Jeno doesn’t hesitate to accept Yukhei into his life. It’s the cue for Jaemin not to hope anymore, and for Jeno himself not to seek for someone that won’t ever give him what he needs.

Kissing Yukhei for the first time turns out to be eye-opening. Jeno realizes this is how first kisses are supposed to be: clumsy and careful, because they have never done this together, because it takes a few kisses to get the gist of each other. With Jaemin it felt _too_ perfect, as though they had kissed a thousand times and were familiar with every inch of each other’s mouth. Jeno doesn’t know what that was.

Sure, Yukhei isn’t Jaemin, but that’s the key of it. Jeno likes Yukhei for who he is, and comparing him to Jaemin is unfair to the three of them.

Their friends’ reactions are rich and varied. Even though Renjun doesn’t express it out loud, it’s evident that he expected Jeno to back out sooner or later, not to jump into the pool and soak himself. On the other hand, Donghyuck looks even happier than them. Mark remains terribly silent, with an awkward smile on his face, and Jeno can’t figure out his position.

Mark’s reaction is nothing compared to Jaemin’s reaction. It’s not bad, but it’s negative, and when Jeno tells Jaemin, Jaemin has already been informed of the news. It doesn’t take a genius to presume that Renjun was the one to break it for him – Jeno prefers it this way, prefers giving Jaemin time to prepare himself. Neither Jeno nor Jaemin are ready to go through such a confrontation.

“Congratulations,” is all Jaemin says at first. They’re standing outside a bar, waiting for their friends as they pay the bill. Yukhei isn’t there tonight, and if he was, Jeno wouldn’t have had to explain their relationship with words. Jaemin would have hated it, perhaps would have never forgiven Jeno for it. “I’m happy for you.”

Jaemin doesn’t even look at him. He stares at one of the cars parked nearby, shoving his hands into his pockets, and Jeno wonders when they have reached this point, a point in which Jaemin isn’t making an effort to pretend.

And after all, Jeno understands what Jaemin means. He’s happy for him, but not for himself. Jeno is very familiar with that emotion, for he experienced it during years. It’s just that tables have turned.

 

 

 

 

VI.

Jaemin’s coldness doesn’t last.

Habits are stronger than momentary irritation, and therefore Jaemin adjusts to their new life. Even though they don’t talk about it, their body language is enough. Jeno makes sure to reserve some nights for Jaemin only, and Jaemin embraces him in his arms like nothing happened, like Jeno hasn’t finally replaced him with someone else.

Sometimes, when they’re alone, Jeno still feels like there’s no one else in his life. It’s Jaemin and Jeno, Jeno and Jaemin, as it has always been.

Jeno pushes his buttons, but he’s careful about it. They have to move forward, they can’t be stuck in this place where they ignore that Yukhei exists and that Jaemin has lost his chance. The first time Jeno talks about Yukhei like any normal person would talk about his boyfriend, Jaemin is petrified. And they’re in bed, Jeno’s head on his chest, and he can hear his heartbeats growing faster and faster.

It improves. Jeno watches Jaemin mature before his eyes, learning to control his emotions and feelings, and holding back his impulsive ideas. He doesn’t focus on Jeno that much on anymore, and as time passes by, Jaemin forms an endearing bond with Mark. Jeno doesn’t know what opinion to have about it, fears how that could end up, but it’s none of his business.

The shift is striking. What bothers Jeno is that when Mark touches Jaemin too much, when Jaemin jokes about kissing him, when they begin having their own inside jokes, Renjun always glances at Jeno for a second. And the fact that Jeno knows the reason why Renjun behaves that way is proof enough of how aware Jeno is of his own feelings. Renjun was the first one to break into their lives, thus he has witnessed every single moment of progress and the hundred times they stepped backward.

Unlike the rest, Yukhei is oblivious, but not as oblivious as Jeno supposes. It’s odd that he has never asked about Jaemin. Everyone has asked, from their childhood teachers to their new classmates, even their parents when they were teenagers, and Jeno believes that Yukhei is too smart not to have noticed.

Jeno’s suspicions are confirmed one week before Yukhei’s birthday. He’s dragging Yukhei across the mall, trying to get information out of him while Yukhei jokes about all the things he _doesn’t_ like. Buying gifts isn’t Jeno’s forte, and Yukhei is determined to torture Jeno by letting him go insane over the gift.

“I can’t tell you what I want,” Yukhei defends himself once they’re inside the car, going back to the dorms. Even though Yukhei is driving and he doesn’t look at him, Jeno catches the hint of a lopsided smile. “That defeats the whole point, doesn’t it? And I’m not hard to please.”

“That’s not enough,” Jeno protests. He leans back on the seat, observing Yukhei’s profile. “If someone gives you a better gift, I’m going to riot.”

“Where is this competitive strike coming from?” Yukhei laughs. “What are you trying to prove?”

A huge silence installs between them, though it’s not on purpose. Yukhei isn’t asking with malice, with second intentions, but Jeno processes the question in a different way. The silence is innocent at first, yet as Jeno is incapable of coming up with a reply, the silence becomes asphyxiating.

Jeno wasn’t aware of this either. He assumed that his will of giving Yukhei the best gift was natural, that it didn’t hide any other causes. A perfect day with Yukhei is ruined this fast, with the realization that Jeno wants to prove to Jaemin that he loves Yukhei, or that he can live without him. This shouldn’t be about Jaemin. Why is everything about Jaemin? This is Yukhei’s birthday, their relationship, and Jeno should give him the best gift to make _Yukhei_ happy.

“Is Jaemin coming to the party?” Yukhei asks then, and when Jeno checks his expression, he’s far from happy. Still, he doesn’t look angry, only mildly scared of what’s happening. Scared of admitting out loud what both of them have realized.

Jeno clears his throat, “Did you invite him?”

“Yeah,” Yukhei answers, a trail of incredulity in his voice. Why wouldn’t he? Jaemin and he share the same group of friends, appreciate each other – or at least they did before Jeno decided to choose one of them so drastically. “But he doesn’t talk to me that much anymore. He’s a bit overprotective of you, isn’t he?”

Overprotective.

The thing is, Jaemin doesn’t have any right to do this, to treat Yukhei like he stole his sweets. But it’s Jeno’s fault too, for putting the taste in his mouth and then run away, and for expecting Yukhei to turn a blind eye to the obvious hints.

Avoidance is a strategy with clear holes, yet Jeno can’t confess that he has kissed Jaemin four times and that he only stopped because his relationship with Yukhei became serious. Without Yukhei, Jeno might have fallen deeper into the hole he was digging.

“We’re like family,” Jeno answers after a while. It’s not a lie per se. Jaemin and his parents have been like family for Jeno, if he ignores his never-ending crush on him and the way Jaemin slid his hands under his shirt a few weeks ago. Because it’s partially true, Yukhei believes him, and Jeno is relieved when the tension wears off. “And I’ve never dated anyone, so he doesn’t know how to act towards you.”

That distracts Yukhei, who takes his eyes off the road and glances at Jeno in surprise. “No one?” he pries.

“No one.” Jeno isn’t ashamed of it. It’s normal considering Jaemin never returned his feelings and Jeno was fixed on him. Jeno observes, “You like that.”

It’s pretty funny, because Yukhei avoids gazing at him, but the smirk on his lips betrays him. “It just suits you. You have this unattainable aura.”

“Stop smiling,” Jeno complains, and instead of achieving that, it makes Yukhei burst into laughter.

Jeno should have learned by now that Yukhei loves teasing him, especially when he responds so embarrassed. At Jeno’s order, Yukhei obeys and presses his lips together in a bad attempt to hide his smile, but when he opens his mouth again, it’s irremediable that the corners of his lips curl up.

“I was your first kiss?” Yukhei says, half question, half affirmation.

“You weren’t!” Jeno slaps Yukhei’s forearm. The question induces a strange trembling in Jeno’s insides. His first kiss was Jaemin. And it could have been Yukhei, because Jeno didn’t have any intentions of kissing Jaemin before or after the ultimatum. “Stop.”

Yukhei doesn’t stop, yet his tone becomes quite alluring as he continues, “Damn, unattainable Jeno goes around kissing boys that he doesn’t date?”

It’s just a joke, and Jeno would have loved it in any other moment. Yukhei’s humor is right his type, but his mind is vulnerable and keeps bending to leave a small space for Jaemin when it should be full of Yukhei. Yet Jeno forces a smile, because at least Yukhei has momentarily forgotten Jaemin and his blatant envy, even if it’s just because of an ego matter to have Jeno first, to be his first boyfriend.

 

 

 

 

VII.

Renjun whispers, “I have a theory.”

The problem with Renjun’s theories is that they turn out to be reality most of the time. Jeno is scared of them, because Renjun looks at everyone like he can decipher all their secrets, and Jeno isn’t less of a victim of his. For starters, Renjun doesn’t know how to mind his own business. Secondly, he’s between Jeno and Jaemin all the time, the strongest connection they have, and he doesn’t have any reservations when he has to reprimand them for their behavior towards each other.

“A theory I don’t want to hear, perhaps?” Jeno shoots back, pretending to be uninterested.

Donghyuck is just a few steps away from them, trying jeans in a fitting room; he hasn’t even bothered to close the curtain, so both Renjun and Jeno are observing how he jumps into a pair of jeans that are clearly too tight for him. Jeno expected that to be enough of a distraction for Renjun, but Renjun is too clever, plus he must be used to Donghyuck changing clothes in front of him. Jeno has no escape. They didn’t come here to accompany Donghyuck while he checks out outfits – the main objective was that all of them bought something for Yukhei’s birthday – but Donghyuck’s sweet talk does wonders.

“You and Jaemin are hiding something from me,” Renjun assures Jeno with an exasperated expression. “Do I look like a fool to you?”

Jeno is sure that Jaemin didn’t snitch on him, on them, so at least he has that advantage on Renjun. Renjun can have a thousand theories, but he will need confirmation. That’s why Jeno opts for being silent, nodding as Donghyuck throws him a questioning look like asking _do I look good in this?_

“Those are amazing, babe,” Renjun agrees. As soon as Donghyuck looks satisfied with the compliment, Renjun turns his dark eyes towards Jeno and accuses him, “You did more than kissing.”

The fact that it’s a statement, that Renjun is firm on believing so, makes Jeno’s cheeks flush red. Making out with Jaemin was already an out of body experience, and if they had done more than that, the current situation would be way different. Jeno would have fled the country. “No!”

Renjun squints at him, mistrustful. “Okay, then it happened a lot of times,” he tries. Jeno makes a face, indignant at how fast Renjun has uncovered their secret, and Renjun flashes a blinding smile at him. “Bingo.”

Keeping a secret is hard, but plausible; what isn’t plausible is to lie to Renjun, so Jeno isn’t going to deny it. Details aren’t necessary anyhow, thus Renjun won’t know that it was Jeno who initiated the last three kisses.

“I didn’t cheat on Yukhei,” Jeno clarifies then, worried that Renjun might misinterpret him. Renjun licks his lips, closes his eyes, accepting, as though he’s making the last effort to believe that. Jeno adds, “We stopped.”

“Did you want to stop?” Renjun taps his fingers on the edge of the fitting room, and Donghyuck turns around with a concerned expression, sensing they’re not having a casual talk. “Or did you need to stop?”

It’s the million dollar question. Jeno’s throat is dry as he pleads, “Shit, Renjun, don’t do this.”

Friends are supposed to protect you, but sometimes they have to drag you through the mud to give you a lesson. And that’s what Renjun is doing: displaying the cards on the table, telling Jeno that he chose the wrong cards and that he’s skipping the rules of the game.

“I don’t want Yukhei to fall in love with you,” Renjun spats at him, and Donghyuck’s jaw falls open. Donghyuck is a key piece of what Renjun is planning, because after all, it was him who cheered Jeno to go for Yukhei, and it’s him who introduced the whole group. Considering the way Renjun avoids Donghyuck’s shocked expression, they have discussed _this_ topic, Jaemin and Jeno, Jeno and Yukhei, and Donghyuck isn’t conform with Renjun’s meddling. “You’ll hurt him.”

For Jeno it’s not that serious. They’re two young boys getting to know each other, even if tongues and hands are involved in the process, and he doesn’t understand why Renjun is so nervous about it.

“Who says he’s going to fall in love?” Jeno refutes. No one has ever fallen for him, even if it’s because Jeno hasn’t let anyone in, and it could stay that way.

“We are what we are, Jeno.” Renjun is sharp, not caring that Donghyuck is staring at him with begging eyes. He doesn’t say the word, but the three of them know that Renjun means _Witches_. Perhaps Donghyuck ignores what that implies, but Jeno is conscious of it, of his own power over people. “They fall for us much more easily than we fall for them. Now you just like each other and you could go back to being friends, but one day it will be impossible to part ways peacefully.”

For a second, Jeno peeks at Donghyuck, curious to see how he’s taking in that information. He’s hugging the last jeans he tried on against his chest, hands clutching at the edges, and his gaze has shifted from fright to understanding, like Renjun’s words explain why Donghyuck’s feelings are so intense. Jeno isn’t free from understanding it; witches affect each other without exceptions, so he finds Renjun appealing, and Renjun finds Jaemin and him appealing too.

“Sorry, Hyuck,” Renjun mumbles, though his tone is careful when he addresses Donghyuck. It’s rude to draw a line between witches and the rest when Donghyuck is present, when someone that will feel misplaced is present. “We shouldn’t be doing this in front of you.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, effusive, “It’s fine.”

However, to give them false privacy, Donghyuck slides the curtain. Renjun sighs at his reaction, and Jeno feels apologetic because if they argue, it’s going to be his fault. Jeno wishes he could keep his friends safe and away from his disasters, because the only one who ever dealt with him and his issues was Jaemin. No one else is qualified to handle Jeno.

“Think about it, yeah?” Renjun asks him then, a clear closure for the conversation. It’s impossible to tell Renjun to leave him alone, since his friend is looking out for him too, not only for Yukhei. He’s looking out for all of them, if Jeno ponders about it. They have created a beautiful connection, but not an unbreakable connection; Jeno is aware that nothing is immune to his mistakes. “I know you have a lot to lose with Jaemin. But so does he.”

_A lot_ is a mild way to describe it. They can lose each other, and that’s _everything_.

 

 

 

 

VIII.

Luck is on Jeno’s side, because Yukhei asks him to help with the birthday preparations, and Jeno would never reject an opportunity to distract himself. Yukhei is keen on throwing the party at his apartment though he shares the place with other four guys; three of which are his friends, so they will attend the birthday party anyhow, but the fourth guy is hard to convince.

“Come in and use your magic on him,” Yukhei jokes when Jeno arrives at the apartment.

Much to Jeno’s surprise, Yukhei has already set half of the party, except for the food and drinks. It’s amusing because he still needs permission from this fourth flatmate, and if he refuses, they will have to find a local out of the blue and carry all the things there.

“Way to introduce myself, right?” Jeno retorts with a laugh, and Yukhei smiles wider. He welcomes Jeno into his arms, and then his lips are on his, his hand tenderly stroking down his hair. Jeno feels comfortable, safe and doesn’t get why he should renounce to this. When Yukhei plants a last smooch on his lips and then breaks the kiss, Jeno figures out, “Is that why you called me a day before, to introduce me to your friends?”

“Maybe,” Yukhei confesses. Jeno assumed that he would spend the night, and considering that it’s a Thursday, he expected the other flatmates to be at home. Yukhei bumps their noses together, poking Jeno’s nose with affection, and murmurs a gentle, “Is it okay?”

Renjun’s voice is inside Jeno’s head. _They fall for us much more easily than we fall for them_. But this is normal, right? The least Yukhei can do is to let his friends meet the guy that is invading their apartment all the time, even though sometimes they notice him only because they can hear Jeno’s voice through the walls at night. It’s etiquette, he reckons.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies. Yet looking behind Yukhei, to the closed doors of the rooms, provokes him a sensation of vertigo. “But I’m suddenly feeling shy.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much more intimidating than any of them.”

Yukhei’s smile is soothing, and so is the way he entangles their hands and leads Jeno around the house. So Jeno lets his own nervousness flow, because this has to be done, and clutches onto Yukhei’s hands as though that will keep him safe. It’s an automatic reflex: that’s how he warns Jaemin that he needs help, and Jaemin always does anything so that Jeno is protected and comfortable. He can’t find that in Yukhei.

Yukhei’s flatmates are older than them, most of them fresh out of university, and though they are quite nice, they bomb Jeno with questions. Yukhei snickers from time to time at Jeno’s scared reactions, yet he supposes that Yukhei’s friends are making sure he’s dating the right person. Judging how they seem to like Jeno after a few hours, appearances are deceiving.

In the middle of the night, Jeno twirls around in bed and catches sight of the light coming from his screen. His notifications are off except for one person, so he nearly jumps at the realization – it’s past four in the morning, a very odd hour, and Jaemin might have gotten into trouble. Instead, what greets Jeno is a simple _where are you?_ and Jeno has to toss his phone aside, well aware that he can’t tell Jaemin that he’s spending the night at Yukhei’s.

It’s a coincidence that Jaemin is seeking him tonight, that he probably went to his room just to discover that he wasn’t there, and perhaps he’s worried about his well-being. But Jeno is concerned as well, and even if Jaemin doesn’t protect him anymore, there are certain things Jeno can protect his friend from.

 

 

 

 

IX.

“Did you skip classes?” is the first thing Renjun tells him, disapproval in his voice, when Jeno opens the door for him. He scans Jeno from head to toe, processing the fact that he’s wearing slippers and the upper part of his pajama, although he has already styled his hair for the party. “Lee Jeno, you skipped classes.”

Renjun is accusing him of more things, like the fact that he spent the night here and didn’t bother to tell Jaemin, and most likely how Renjun had to console Jaemin in his absence. But before Jeno can soak in his guilt, Donghyuck appears after Renjun, dragging a huge garbage bag which, Jeno knows, contains the teddy bear he bought for Yukhei. A teddy bear that doesn’t even fit in his bed, by the way, so it’s going to be interesting to see what Yukhei does with him.

“Jeno skipped classes?” Donghyuck gasps, adding unnecessary drama.

“Stop saying that,” Jeno protests, knitting his eyebrows together. “Why is it such a big issue?”

“Love changes a man,” Yukhei chirps us behind him, walking by to aid Donghyuck with the bag. Then Yukhei mumbles, “The fuck is this? Did you buy me a person?”

Ignoring the fit of giggles Donghyuck bursts into, because that bear weighs more than any of them, Jeno nudges Yukhei’s arm, indignant. “Why are you siding with them?”

“Because you really skipped classes for me,” Yukhei points out, satisfied.

“You begged me so that I helped you.”

“And you accepted. So?”

Renjun stares at them with his eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t comment on the scene. Deep inside, Jeno is aware that he’s seizing them up, trying to decipher if Jeno is the best actor in the world or he really likes Yukhei this much. Love changes a man, Yukhei has dared to say, and no one has blinked an eye at the choice of words. Perhaps Jeno should have.

“Answer your texts,” Renjun reproaches him in a mumble, but he sounds resigned rather than indignant.

The positive side is that when Jeno answers Jaemin that he’s already at Yukhei’s house, he doesn’t have to explain anything, because all of them are supposed to be there tonight. If Jaemin is capable of connecting the dots from last night, it won’t be Jeno’s fault.

Jeno doesn’t have any time to obsess over Jaemin attending the party or not, because in less than a hour other guests start arriving, and Donghyuck and he run all over the house to store Yukhei’s gifts in his room and to make sure everyone feels at home. Needless to say, Yukhei has invited too many people, and in a matter of minutes the house is buzzing with energy. It’s then, when everything is running smoothly and Yukhei is too busy receiving birthday greetings, that Jeno’s mind shifts towards Jaemin.

Trying not to be desperate, Jeno looks for Renjun first, since it’s easier to ask for him than for someone that might not even be there. Renjun is in the kitchen, talking to one of Yukhei’s roommates, whom he probably knew beforehand.

“Stressed?” Renjun shoots at him upon recognizing Jeno.

Jeno is stressed, but not for the reasons one would suppose. He doesn’t even care that Yukhei’s flatmate is present as he asks Renjun, “Is Jaemin here?”

At first, Renjun sends him a warning glance, like he thinks Jeno has lost his mind. “Yeah, he came with Mark,” he confirms, and something twirls in Jeno’s stomach. “Check the living room.”

Jeno does, with rushed breath and his heart racing. But Jaemin and Mark are just talking, flattened out on the couch, and both of them are wearing casual clothes, as though they came straight from their classes to the party. It’s, nonetheless, a strange experience to note how Mark’s arm is around Jaemin’s shoulders, how Jaemin has slightly bent towards him, chasing that comfort. Jaemin isn’t feeling well, Jeno could have noticed from miles away, and for once he isn’t resorting to Jeno for consolation.

It should warm Jeno’s heart that Jaemin has other friends to lean on, but he feels that he’s not part of Jaemin’s life anymore. Which is a paranoia of his and nothing else, but Jeno can’t shake it off. Jaemin’s eyes are too focused on Mark, and with the noise of the music and the party, he doesn’t notice Jeno approaching them. Mark lifts his hand and waves at him, and then Jaemin’s gaze shifts to Jeno, eyes widening.

“Hey,” Jeno greets them, as casually as possible. It’s a horrible feeling to observe Jaemin and be aware that he’s in pieces, not able to compose himself, but Jeno has to ignore it on purpose if he doesn’t want to worsen Jaemin’s mood. “What happened last night?”

“There was an infestation in my room, my roommate went into panic, he wouldn’t let me act,” Jaemin recites like it’s out of a manual. An _infestation_. Jaemin has never dealt with an infestation, and neither has Jeno, but with two witches it would have been less dangerous for Jaemin. As though he can read Jeno’s mind, Jaemin assures him, “Everything is solved now.”

Of course it is, because unlike him Renjun was available. This is the reason Jeno can’t disappear from Jaemin’s life, the reason they need each other; if they had never met Renjun, Jaemin could have ended up hurt just because Jeno was too much of a coward to admit that he was sleeping with his boyfriend. And Jaemin is conscious of it. He’s upset, even if he smiles up at Jeno and uses his acting skills so that Jeno believes him; but the corners of his lips don’t curve up enough to be a honest smile, and Jeno’s heart drops lower and lower.

Jaemin is about to ignore him, giving closure to the topic, so Jeno asks, “Why are you two not having fun?”

“What do you mean?” Mark leans back, a subtle signal that Jeno won’t be able to drag him off the couch. He spreads his legs further, smiling. “I’m having a lot of fun.”

Mark is unfazed at the glare Jeno throws at him, and Jaemin is entertained enough to let out a small laugh. After being involved in the preparations, Jeno isn’t going to allow them to spend the night bored on the couch. He reaches out, extending his palm upwards, and orders, “Jaemin, come and dance.”

“With you?” Jaemin says, a little breathless.

“Who else?”

Jaemin presses their hands together, a dubitative spark in his eyes, and Jeno pulls him up. Censure radiates from Mark while Jeno slips away with Jaemin, yet Jeno couldn’t care less when it’s the first time in weeks that Jaemin trusts him so easily, so fast.

Jaemin’s reticence fades away as they get swallowed by the small crowd of people dancing and Jeno grins at him; sadness can’t be erased in the blink of an eye, but when the next song plays, Jeno has an idea. Dancing isn’t foreign to any of them, less dancing together. When they were kids, they would dance all the time around their parents – also inappropriate songs, though it took Jeno a few years to understand why their parents laughed so much at them – and during puberty, they joined dance classes for a while. They’re not aces, but they got rid of the shame long ago. There’s a limit to that, however, because when the _I just wanna see you strip, damn you're sexy for me_ line drops, Jeno teasingly lifts his shirt. And Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, wide and dilated, before realizing what Jeno is trying to do.

The trick is effective, for Jaemin starts laughing right away, and when Jeno moves his shirt further up, Jaemin charges against him and tugs the hem of his shirt down. Jeno snorts as well, because Jaemin is more embarrassed about Jeno stripping than Jeno himself, and Jeno lays his hands on his back, keeping him in place.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin whines in his neck, his laughter echoing against Jeno’s skin.

“Feeling the song,” Jeno replies, joking. And then, on a sincere note, he admits, “Making you laugh.”

When Jaemin pulls back, there’s something akin to surprise in his eyes. Gratitude, but not because Jeno intends to cheer him up, but because Jeno still cares about him. And then Jeno makes him move, and they dance, but they’re not focused on moving along to the music. It’s an excuse to touch each other, to look at each other, to intertwine fingers and smile and pretend that Jaemin is perfectly fine, and so is Jeno.

Yet they aren’t, and when the song ends, both of them step out of their daze. And it’s not regretful for once, or at least Jaemin’s face extends into a smile and Jeno finds himself doing the same, because they understand and accept what they’re doing – even if they shouldn’t. The sincerity of Jaemin’s smile doesn’t die even as he looks behind Jeno, something that becomes his cue to leave, and squeezes Jeno’s hand amicably before turning around.

Jeno’s heart beats faster in his ribcage, but he loses sight of Jaemin in the blink of an eye and has no option but to discover what made him leave. It’s evident. It’s Yukhei, who is walking up to him with a big grin plastered on his face – if he has witnessed the scene, he doesn’t mind.

“I opened your gift,” Yukhei betrays himself, screaming over the music.

“No!” Jeno protests. Yukhei promised he wouldn’t, Jeno made him promise it, actually, because Yukhei looked at the box with greedy eyes as soon as Donghyuck brought it in. And Jeno had given it to his friends for the mere reason that he was sure Yukhei wouldn’t last the whole night without taking a peek. “I had to be there, this is so unfair.”

Yukhei indulges him in his complaints, brings his arms around Jeno’s waist and leads both of them towards a clean, empty part of the living room. They trip a few times because Jeno jokingly refuses to move and Yukhei has to pout for him to give in; but when they’re in an intimate corner, away from the music, Yukhei leans his head to the side and smirks down at Jeno.

“I got too curious,” he excuses himself. “Don’t you want to know if I liked it or not?”

Jeno knows that Yukhei loved it. After five days trying to decide what he should buy for him, Jeno remembered that Yukhei loves his tricks and that it’d be perfect if he could enclose a bit of his magic.

Back at home, Jeno has a hundred urns in which the replicas of mythical creatures live. They’re not real, not alive, and far from their real size, but they behave like their actual living creatures. They roar, play, scratch, and Jeno used to liberate them around his room when he was alone - his mom scolded him for it, because if one of them escaped it could cause a ruckus. So Jeno bought an urn, created a _haetae_ in miniature and named him Yukhei, trained him so that he responded to the name. Yukhei probably opened the gift because the creature was making too much noise, so Jeno can’t blame him.

“I don’t care,” Jeno lies, lifting his chin in stubborness.

However, it’s hard to keep his serious façade as Yukhei pulls him closer and closer, with a stupid smile, and Jeno breaks into laughter. “You don’t have any competition,” Yukhei jokes, referring to Jeno’s unexplainable ambition to give him the best gift. “The party? We can cancel it. The gifts? We can throw them away. I think I have everything I wanted.”

“Very corny of you,” Jeno mumbles in slight embarrassment.

Even though he expected Yukhei to like it, he didn’t anticipate this reaction. It’s both satisfying and frightening, and Jeno understands how it feels to have his sense of morality cracking and still be content about it. Jeno’s smile hasn’t disappeared when Yukhei curls a hand around his neck and hauls him into a gentle kiss, though he has to make a great effort to ignore the buzzing vibration of his conscience.

 

 

 

 

X.

The only reason Jeno doesn’t stay the night is because Jaemin goes missing.

He can’t tell when or how, but the next time Jeno asks about Jaemin’s whereabouts, a girl tells him that Mark and he ran to the bathroom. And when Jeno knocks on the bathroom’s door, it opens without resistance and there isn’t anyone inside.

Jeno feels nausea rising up, a bad hunch and his extrasensory senses partnering up. But he isn’t the sort of person that assumes or that drowns in bad sensations to come up with hurtful conclusions. Neither Jaemin nor Mark were drinking the last time Jeno spotted them: they went into the bathroom for another reason, and there are many possible reasons that make Jeno nervous. There is one reason in particular that he can’t even consider, a reason that fits perfectly, because Jaemin would be discreet and Mark wouldn’t dare to put his hands on Jaemin in front of everyone.

It’s none of his business, but at the same time it is. It’s one after midnight when Jeno steals one of Yukhei’s coats and leaves the house, the noise of the party sulking when he closes behind him. Mark and Jaemin aren’t in the yard around the house, and Jaemin doesn’t answer any of Jeno’s texts - which he deserves, to be honest, you get what you give. But Jaemin isn’t in his room either, and his rommate stares at Jeno like he’s out of his mind for coming over at this time. And after all, Jeno is too much of a coward to go to Mark’s place, not only because he might interrupt something that he doesn’t even want to acknowledge, but because it’s a move that reveals that between Jaemin and Yukhei, Jeno will always choose one of them first.

 

 

 

 

XI.

It’s curious how they fit back into their routine. Like nothing happened.

Jeno never asks where Jaemin went, and Jaemin never tells him; he doesn’t even seem to know that Jeno noticed, which is a personal offense. They have always had an eye on each other, to make sure they were safe and sound, and it doesn’t have to be different now. Jaemin assumes that it is, so oblivious and so conscious at the same time. Jeno doesn’t have the heart to confront him about it, because he’s afraid of the thin line between talking and fighting, and deep inside he has a lot of things to shout at Jaemin.

However, routine breaks after a week. Jaemin cancels the plans with him, sends him a strange message about having to leave the campus, and Jeno doesn’t hesitate to turn up at his door.

Jaemin is alone, but the room is a mess. There are candles everywhere, even on the furniture, tracing a clear figure on the room. The floor is painted with red and blue materials that Jeno is familiar with, but to think that Jaemin and Renjun did this and that they can’t remove it because of security yet, gives Jeno chills.

“Hey,” Jaemin greets him, breathless after jumping over the room not to spoil his work. “Be careful not to step on the salt.”

Jaemin trails the path back to where he was, and it’s then that Jeno discovers that he’s packing his clothes, tightly secure in a small suitcase. When Jaemin said he had to leave, Jeno didn’t imagine that he meant for more than a day.

“What-” Jeno begins. He remembers Jaemin’s warning, so he looks at the floor while he dodges the candles. His glasses almost fall down his nose for staring down, which would have ruined the whole ritual, but he catches them in the last moment. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin’s hair is pointing everywhere, his eyes wander around with evident nervousness and it’s terribly obvious that this has been a last minute decision. It’d be awful to presume that this is a trick to avoid Jeno, yet Jeno doesn’t know what to expect from Jaemin anymore.

“Going back home. This place needs a bit of rest,” he explains, pushing a pair of socks into the tiniest corner of the suitcase. He runs a hand through his hair afterwards, not even glancing at Jeno. “I’m going to spend the weekend there. It’s just a short visit.”

None of them have visited their hometown in the whole year. Jaemin and his family are good at handling long distances and independency – in fact, Jaemin’s parents travelled a lot when he was a kid – so it’s odd that Jaemin has the sudden need to visit them. Their hometown is around six hours away by train, which isn’t much, but becomes a good quantity for a short visit.

Before Jeno can process what he’s saying, his mouth forms a decision, “I’ll go with you.”

Jaemin snaps his head up, confused. “What?” he says, and then laughs like he’s sure that it’s a joke. But when Jeno’s expression remains serious and to some extent indignant, Jaemin catches on. “Jeno, you don’t have to. I can travel alone, I’m not five.”

It’s useless for Jeno to convince Jaemin that he doesn’t intend to accompany him, because that’s what he intends and Jaemin can see through him. Still, as Jeno plops down on his bed, he reminds him, “I have to visit too. My father is still angry over me not going during Yule.”

“Such a bad son,” Jaemin taunts him, well spirited. His family is flexible with festivities, for they don’t consider them a moment to reunite but to boost their skills. Jeno’s family differs. “You should have gone. You didn’t want to stay here, anyhow.”

Jeno doesn’t like _that_. He doesn’t like Jaemin pretending that Jeno should mind other issues before Jaemin, because their silent deal contradicts that. “I wanted to stay with you.”

“You felt that you _had_ to.”

Jeno huffs. There’s a difference between obligation and will, and being involved in one doesn’t cancel the other one. So what if he had to? He wanted to.

“I’d have preferred stabbing myself than letting you spend Yule alone. So there’s that.”

Jaemin doesn’t move after that, bangs covering his eyes and head down, as if his suitcase is the most interesting object in the world. The silence becomes too big, but they have never been afraid of big silences.

“So passionate,” Jaemin murmurs, voice hoarse. Jeno smiles to himself, strangely pleased with the teasing. “The train parts in one hour and a half. Do you need any help to pack?”

 

 

 

 

XII.

Setting foot in the train station is revealing. Jeno has been here twice, and the first time took place when Jaemin and he arrived for university. Even though it happened months ago, it feels as though an eternity went by. The reason is that they were different, that these months shaped them in ways they never imagined, and Jeno looks at the station with different eyes too.

Jaemin’s innocence is gone, and so is Jeno’s. It’s not a bad change. They were two young boys full of life and unrealistic dreams, hung up on each other and their friendship, and today they wait on the platform and Jeno feels the same urge of holding Jaemin’s hand. He holds the hand of a man, not a teen anymore, but Jeno is in love with the man as much as he was in love with the teen.

They don’t talk, but they don’t need to. In the train, Jaemin falls asleep in a matter of minutes, pressed against Jeno, and Jeno cradles him with the certainty that Jaemin hasn’t slept well or much in the past weeks – and that Jeno is the cause. Jaemin always looks so small in his arms, the tension of his shoulders gone, his doe eyes closed, and Jeno adores him a bit more every time.

 

 

 

 

XIII.

“I’m nervous,” Jaemin announces, drying his hands on his pants.

Nervous is a mild way to put it. They have decided to visit Jeno’s house first, since it’s the easiest path from the train station. As they approached, Jeno has noticed how Jaemin’s semblance shifted from peace to terror. Going back home isn’t supposed to be a distressing experience, for they should be happy instead, and Jeno can’t understand why Jaemin is so tense, so concerned.

“I can’t believe this,” Jeno snickers, incredulous. Jaemin looks amazingly ridiculous standing by the door with his ugly red suitcase in hand and about to run away. “It’s my parents, Jaemin. You know them since you were born, literally.”

“Yeah, well.” Jaemin doesn’t sound convinced. He sends Jeno a significant look of pain, “I hadn’t groped their son before.”

Jeno nearly chokes on his own saliva at that, but it’s justified. He thought that they would never bring the topic up, and less in front of his parents’ house. It’s the last place where Jeno is disposed to discuss that he made out with Jaemin.

So he does what’s natural: he covers Jaemin’s mouth with his palm, alarmed, and in the process scares Jaemin further. “My god, don’t say that out loud,” Jeno hisses, red like blood.

With pitiful eyes, Jaemin moves his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. And to betray Jeno’s moment of trust, of freedom to talk, he insists, “But it’s true! What if they can feel it?”

This time, Jeno can’t resist the temptation of laughing. If Jaemin is this anxious over such a trivial matter – or a matter that would be trivial to Jeno’s parents, at least – Jeno can’t imagine him trying to hurt someone on purpose.

“I hope you’re joking.” Jaemin looks terrified, as though Jeno’s lack of understanding is just aggravating his state. Even though Jeno squeezes his hand to calm him down, it’s impossible not to cackle as he assures Jaemin, “They won’t know, okay? I promise.”

They don’t even suspect it, of course, but Jaemin is neurotic anyhow. It gives Jeno a good laugh, though his mother pulls him apart to ask him if Jaemin is feeling fine, if he’s in trouble, and Jeno just laughs harder. To be the one that initiated the kiss, Jaemin surely is a mess, but his kiss started this chaos and Jeno guesses that to some extent he deserves it.

He offers Jaemin strolling home with him, but Jaemin declines. Maybe he needs to relax alone, to talk to his parents in private and ask for advice – Jeno has a feeling that this was the purpose of this trip, because no matter how much they have grown, they’re not exempt from needing their parents’ advice. So Jeno lets him go, distractedly stroking the back of his hand before Jaemin can jump down the entrance stairs.

It’s ironical that they message each other that night, that Jeno ignores everyone else from university, because they’re back home and the external world mustn’t interrupt them. Jaemin wants to go to their middle school tomorrow. Jeno wants to have lunch in that old, dirty place his neighbors run. Jaemin wants to check if their former classmates are in town, to talk to them and make sure the skating club is still open. Jeno wants to have Jaemin for himself, to lie with him and listen to his breathing and just hope that time stops, or that time retreats, and that they can pretend that they never left this place.

 

 

 

 

XIV.

Jeno is happy, until he isn’t.

“It’s you or no one,” Jaemin says, voice broken and devastated. “It’s not- I’m not lying, I’m not pressuring. I don’t mind being alone. With you or alone, Jeno.”

Jeno hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful in his whole life. _They fall more easily for us than we fall for them_. So funny. A thousand witches could cross Jeno’s life and he wouldn’t look at any of them, because only Jaemin shines like one of the stars hanging off Jeno’s ceiling.

“I love you,” Jaemin whispers, but for once, it doesn’t break him.

And Jeno believes him.

 

 

 

 

XV.

Jaemin doesn’t have to put his pieces back together, because he finds peace in his own confession. His realization, perhaps.

Envy contaminates Jeno during that night, for Jaemin sleeps soundly and Jeno can’t even close his eyes. But there’s a knot in his chest and it’s not a negative feeling; it’s just something that Jeno has never felt before. He has Jaemin on his bed, cuddling with him in a tiny bed that shouldn’t even fit one of them, and it’s the happiest moment of Jeno’s life. Jaemin’s peace radiates from his expression, the childlike part of him floating in the air, as though a simple I love you has swept away all the worries. And to think that Jeno can have this for the rest of his life, or if destiny takes a wrong turn, for a few years, is unimaginable.

But Jeno wants this. He was an idiot for forcing himself into a life that wasn’t meant for him; that’s not how it works, it’s not working if he has to convince himself. The ultimatum was necessary, however, and among all the attempts of sabotage, Jaemin has learned the perfect way to put an end to this. It’s a sweet sabotage. It’s another chance, because after this they have a hundred things to prove to each other, to test if they’re good together and they accept themselves with all the mistakes and the pain they inflicted, sometimes on purpose.

And, overall, Jeno has a huge barrier to break before allowing Jaemin to crush him whole.

 

 

 

 

XVI.

Donghyuck lifts his hand in the air, clutching Renjun’s hand, and announces, “We are getting married.”

Mark flinches, disgusted. “I don’t like this game.”

No one seems to like this game, in fact, apart from Donghyuck himself. In Jeno’s opinion, this is one of his strategies, hidden intentions behind the excuse of a bonding game. Renjun hasn’t protested, but Jeno can sense that he’s just indulging Donghyuck as usual, and that’s not a good sign.

Jaemin and Jeno have arrived at the campus a couple of hours ago, deep night, just to discover that Donghyuck had bombed their group chat so all of them would meet. Even if they would have preferred to rest, ignoring Donghyuck’s demands is never a good idea, so Jeno dragged Jaemin to the meet up. To his disgrace, the motive was that Donghyuck had deemed opportune to play a _game_. A game that travels from seniors to freshmen every year, that according to Donghyuck is _fun_ and will unite them closer; which, to be honest, sounds like pure witchcraft. And although Mark and Yukhei aren’t freshmen, he has managed to involve them as well. So they sit around a table in one of the most popular bars of the campus, which is crowded despite the fact that tomorrow is Tuesday. It’s better this way, since Jeno doesn’t have enough privacy to talk to Yukhei, and their reencounter is limited to a short kiss when they see each other. Jaemin looks away on purpose right then, chatting Renjun up, but his expression doesn’t reveal anything.

Donghyuck grunts, “Well, and I don’t like you, and yet here we are.”

“Who made it up?” Mark attacks, not disposed to give up. He mocks him, “Was it you?”

“It’s a tradition!”

Traditions are somewhat weird, Jeno reckons. The game consists in making pairs out of their group of friends and let them spend a whole day together, without anyone else. It’s called _marriage_ , though Jeno believes that Donghyuck might have invented that part himself.

“The point of this game is to bond with other friends, not with your boyfriend,” Yukhei chirps in. He sends Renjun a judging glance, and adds, “You have done _that_ enough.”

Displeased, Donghyuck scrunches his nose at him. But he’s not one to be messed with, and Jeno is aware that Donghyuck is about to take revenge on them for disagreeing with him.

Crossing his hands over the table, he cedes. “Fine. Jeno with me, Renjun with Mark and Yukhei with Jaemin.” Half of the boys pale at the mere idea, and Donghyuck smirks in satisfaction, conscious that they hate him a bit more after this. “There you have your bonding time. Objections?”

No one speaks out against it, because they can’t without creating a bad atmosphere. Jeno peeks at Jaemin, who is gazing back at him with endless desperation; next to him, Yukhei has tensed up and there’s evident regret on his face for contradicting Donghyuck. The last thing Jaemin and Yukhei wish is bond, and Jeno isn’t sure that’s even possible. They’re better off pretending that they don’t have Jeno in common for uncomfortable reasons, that they can be friends.

 

 

 

 

XVII.

The game doesn’t seem to be such a bad idea when Jeno wakes up.

Imagining Jaemin and Yukhei together all day, however, sends pulses of anxiety through him. A slip of the tongue and their friendships will be ruined – Jeno can’t expect them to be reasonable if one of them breaks boundaries, because feelings aren’t rational.

The positive aspect of the game is that Jeno has enough time to clear up his mind. A moment of peace without Yukhei and without Jaemin that lasts until Donghyuck barges into his room with a bag full of food.

“Who gave you the key?” Jeno asks him, stretching on his bed.

“Jisung.” Donghyuck twirls around, leaves the food on the bedside table, and climbs on the bed with Jeno. To Jeno’s irritation, Donghyuck doesn’t plan to join him in his sleep, because he tugs at his shirt until Jeno sits up with a grumble. “I promised him I’d take you out and away from Jaemin. He really hates him, huh?”

That’s another problem that Jeno will have to face sooner or later. Jisung’s resentment towards Jaemin after watching Jeno suffer for months shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Jeno sighs a, “He does.”

“Poor baby,” Donghyuck coos, and he doesn’t mean Jisung, he means Jeno. He slips his hand over Jeno’s hand, smiling. “You can talk to me today, I’m all yours. We’re married.”

Donghyuck isn’t doing this out of sympathy alone, but to snoop. Renjun and he are a nightmare, and Jeno has just learned that they should never return home again, because that concedes them time to plot against them. All in all, Jeno is grateful for the food and the company – and because Donghyuck leads him to skip his lectures – and finally aware that Donghyuck is his friend too, not just Renjun’s boyfriend.

Donghyuck’s plans are to feed Jeno until he explodes, because they stroll around the city and Donghyuck keeps stopping to buy him food. Jeno isn’t allowed to reject it, since Donghyuck looks at him like he’s breaking his heart every single time; it doesn’t take much time for Jeno to figure out what’s happening. Donghyuck becomes interested in food every time Jeno fishes his phone out of his pocket, and if Jeno puts two and two together, it’s simple to reach a conclusion.

“I’m nervous over them, okay? Let me check if they texted me,” Jeno complains when they walk past by a shop that sells sandwiches and Donghyuck’s aim in life is to buy the biggest sandwich for Jeno. “You’re out of your mind, you know?”

“Did I do anything wrong?” Donghyuck asks with fake innocence. Jeno glowers at him, because Donghyuck is aware of the hole he has thrown his friends into. “I know. They might end up in a fight. Or they might team up against you.”

That’d be funny, though not undeserved. Jeno is certain that he prefers them to hate him than hurt each other.

Donghyuck pays for the sandwiches, threads their arms together as they exit, and shoots, “How was the weekend with Jaemin?”

He makes it sound like Jeno went on a romantic escapade with Jaemin. But Jeno can’t get angry at him, because even if he would never cheat on anyone, that doesn’t erase the fact that he was dying to have a chance at kissing Jaemin.

“Don’t be cruel, Hyuck,” Jeno mumbles.

“It’s not me who is cruel.”

Donghyuck looks up at the sky with a frown that progressively deepens. Jeno wouldn’t call himself cruel, but the situation might be. It’s unfair for Yukhei that even if he falls in love, Jeno will always be in love with someone else. Jeno ignores if he can love two persons at the same time, but he will never love anyone how he loves Jaemin, and after loving like that, there’s no turning back.

Instead of changing the topic, Donghyuck firmly tells Jeno, “Break up with him before he does it out of hatred.”

There’s no point in denying that he’s planning to break up with Yukhei. However, it’s strange that their friends know about it with such certainty that they don’t have to ask first. Jeno wonders if even Mark has noticed, and how come Yukhei hasn’t, or if Yukhei is keeping his silence because he refuses to let go of Jeno, just like Jaemin did once upon a time.

Talking about this in the middle of a street, with people passing by, is much more calming than Jeno could have ever imagined. It lifts off the crushing seriousness, makes it easier for Jeno to open up.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Jeno confesses. And that’s the only barrier preventing him from breaking up with him: that he has never broken up with anyone, and he needs the right words for it not to be a disaster.

“Then you’re right on time,” Donghyuck replies, fast and confident. Much to Jeno’s surprise, Donghyuck gifts him a small smile, as if he understood the dilemma Jeno has. “Listen, Yukhei is going to meet other guys. Actually, Renjun may or may have not done a small reading of his life, so it’s not a supposition.”

Jeno trips with his own feet, and he’s lucky that Donghyuck is holding his arm or otherwise he would have fallen forward like a rock. “Renjun did _what_?”

Perhaps Donghyuck isn’t conscious of how intrusive that is, but Renjun must have explained it to him, because Donghyuck knows that it’s wrong.

That’s why he tries to excuse Renjun with a sullen, “It was an exception. We kept arguing because I was rooting for you two and I thought you could work out, and I didn’t know why he was so stubborn on not accepting your relationship.” An embarrassed smile invades his face. It’s never easy to be wrong, but Jeno appreciates that Donghyuck believed in him even if it was foolish of him. “Then he told me that he had read all of your alternatives outcomes. And I had to shut up.”

That explains why Renjun didn’t support them. Jeno feels like laughing, for Renjun might have a slightly crooked morality, but he’s smart. He could have manipulated them, and instead he chose to leave small seeds and hope for them to grow into full plants, which requires a great patience. It’s likely that he knew that Jaemin was going to confess during the weekend.

Jeno presses a palm against his forehead, overwhelmed, “You know what’s going to happen?”

“I’m not going to tell you about Jaemin and you,” Donghyuck warns him, exchanging a significant look of disapproval. It’s detrimental to know one’s future. “I can just tell you that breaking up with Yukhei is the best outcome for him.”

If Jeno cares about Yukhei, he has to choose the best outcome for him. That’s the way to redeem himself without selfish interests, the way to preserve their friendship. Donghyuck is giving him that choice because he intuits that it’s what Jeno and Yukhei need, because Jeno would never want to kick Yukhei out of his life.

“I don’t want him to think I used him.”

This time, Donghyuck looks a bit surprised. “He knows you like him. He’s not stupid, and not inexperienced either.” And then, bringing a hand to his chest, he dramatically inputs, “Plus, I would have never encouraged you if it wasn’t obvious that you had a thing for him.”

Jeno laughs, feeling better. “Okay, but who doesn’t have a thing for Yukhei?”

“Don’t say that,” Donghyuck orders him. He doesn’t deny that he agrees with Jeno, however. “I don’t want to think that Renjun might have a thing for him.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno,” Donghyuck grumbles. It’s not serious, but he’s a good actor, and Jeno gives him the benefit of looking affected by his threatening tone. “I’m being a good friend, but I could be a really bad friend if you go on that path.”

Even if Donghyuck tried, he would still be nothing but an angel.

 

 

 

 

XVIII.

Following Donghyuck’s advice, Jeno represses the need of bombing Jaemin with texts. He doesn’t sleep well that night, though, because there are no news from any of other guys and Donghyuck claims that they have to sleep together – which is a way to spy and control Jeno, he suspects. And if they have to sleep together, it means that Yukhei and Jaemin will do it too.

Nonetheless, Jaemin turns up at his door the next morning, not minding that Donghyuck is there. It’s awkward when Jaemin steps inside and realizes that he has to face both Jisung and Donghyuck, and that only the latter is disposed to be nice to him. Jeno is too worried to care about the situation, and the first thing he does is to inspect Jaemin’s face and hands to make sure that he didn’t fight. Jaemin is untouched, needless to say, and Jeno catches Jisung rolling his eyes at them while Jeno cups Jaemin’s face.

“It was fine,” Jaemin mumbles, as though Jisung and Donghyuck can’t hear him in the silence of the room.

Jaemin looks tired, but that’s all, and Jeno forces himself to believe him. There are dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue, and he would ask if it didn’t feel so invasive. After all, he isn’t entitled to know what happened between Yukhei and Jaemin if they don’t wish to tell.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck interrupts them, happy. He brings his knees up to his chin, hiding a blatant smile. “I hope it was a revealing experience.”

Jaemin glares at him, and Jeno can’t help but laugh at that. Just because they didn’t kill each other it doesn’t mean that it was a good idea, and Donghyuck risked many things with this decision. Yet Jaemin’s anger dies down when he glances at Jeno again, remembering that he’s here for Jeno and not for Donghyuck or for Jisung to emanate hatred.

“You’re dating a great boy, you know?” Jaemin tells him then. Jeno’s heart stops. Jaemin is giving him a last chance to keep his current life. It’s a sign for Jeno to trust in his relationship with Yukhei, because Jaemin will approve of it. It’s a veiled _I won’t blame you if you don’t want to lose him_. Jeno nods, for he knows, he knows how much he’s losing, but Jaemin doesn’t seem to understand that it wouldn’t be his biggest loss. “Just making sure.”

They don’t have enough intimacy to have this conversation with clear words, so Jeno detaches himself and asks for a few minutes while he gets ready. No matter how much Donghyuck complains, he can’t skip another day of classes, since he’s a student that relies heavily on explanations. To avoid the possibility of Jisung stabbing him with a pen, Jaemin waits for him outside, and Jeno can hear him talk with someone else in the hall – after all it’s their building, so they know pretty much everyone at this point.

Jeno rushes out of his room and Jaemin greets him with a charming grin invading his face. Forgetting that they have serious issues to attend, Jeno is flooded with the thought of holding Jaemin’s hand and walking to his first class like that. He’s lucky that Jaemin has his hands in his pockets, because Jeno doesn’t want to embarrass himself nor being disrespectful.

Jaemin walks him to his class, since he has plenty of time, and they joke around without touching any sensitive topics. He pulls at Jeno’s bag to tease him, like a bored kid that can’t live without annoying others, and then laughs when Jeno tries to smack him on the head. It’s not until they are two faculties away  from Jeno’s faculty that Jaemin turns serious, calm, and his will to joke dissipates. Compared to Jeno’s room, the entrance of the faculty is a much more intimate place because there aren’t friends trying to spy on them, and that’s why Jaemin takes his chance to speak out.

“I need you to talk to him first,” he tells Jeno with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have confessed before that, and I’m sorry for that.”

Jeno is speechless for a whole minute, but Jaemin just takes a deep breath and waits. Despite the fact that he has imagined this moment a thousand times, it’s hard to articulate what he has to let Jaemin know. They have hurt each other unintentionally, clutching on their friendship, and somehow Jeno never expected Jaemin to kick his ultimatum away. It takes more than simple bravery to do so.

Playing with the straps of his bag, nervous, Jeno whispers, “You could choose and you chose that, and there’s nothing wrong with it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to sabotage me a last time.”

First there’s a hint of surprise in Jaemin’s eyes, as though he has believed until now that he was ruining Jeno’s chances at happiness. Then there’s transparent joy, a coy smile adorning his lips.

“Hurry up and break my heart if you have to,” he tempts Jeno, tapping under his chin so that he focuses on him. He walks back once Jeno stares at him, however, and his expression gives away that he’s not expecting to have his heart broken. “If not, just know that I can’t wait to kiss you.”

Jeno feels his patience run out, the last drops evaporating under Jaemin’s gaze. They have so many kisses ahead, as many as they want, and they have missed a hundred of them in the way, so Jeno will compensate for the wasted time.

 

 

 

 

XIX.

Yukhei has prepared himself for it.

Jeno ignores what the last straw was, that little detail that made Yukhei conclude that their relationship was going nowhere. Perhaps the fact that Jeno left during his birthday to look for Jaemin – because secrets spread fast and Jeno never gave him a proper excuse – or perhaps that Jeno changed their weekend plans to run away, to run back home with Jaemin. Or perhaps that Yukhei spent the day with Jaemin and realized what everyone realized upon meeting Jeno and Jaemin: that they were together in unexplainable, indefinable ways, and neither Yukhei nor anyone else could fight against that force.

After all his attempts, Jeno finds out that he can’t love Yukhei like he deserves to be loved. And they sit on his bed, Yukhei glancing at the door because it’s terribly obvious that his flatmates are on the other side, and there’s no need to explain that it’s over. The haetae that Jeno gifted him runs free around the room, crashing against Yukhei’s dispersed shoes and lifting its tail like it’s aware of its owner’s tension.

Yukhei follows the haetae with his eyes, maybe considering the irony of how much effort Jeno put in the creature, and sighs, “This is all, isn’t it?”

And it is. Yet Yukhei doesn’t sound sad, more inclined to his resolution and his resignation. Both of them tried, not only Jeno, because Yukhei was aware of what he was getting into. He had opted for ignoring it, just like Jeno had opted for ignoring his own feelings.

“I like you, Jeno,” Yukhei assures, but he says it like it doesn’t matter. Jeno could do the same. Jeno likes him, but it doesn’t matter. He understands. “University is for this, to have fun. And I had a lot of fun with you.”

Jeno barely dares to gaze into his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “So sorry.”

And it’s true, but Jeno has learned from this experience. He can’t run away from his own truths, and if he tries to, he might harm those around him. The universe put Yukhei in front of him this time, and it was a pure hit of luck, because Yukhei is a rare gem – any other person wouldn’t have forgiven Jeno.

At his apology, Yukhei releases a soft scoff. It catches Jeno off guard, since he isn’t expecting Yukhei to laugh at this – there’s nothing funny about dragging their relationship when it was weighing them down.

Eyes crinkled up, Yukhei slips his hand over the bed and caresses Jeno’s hand, comforting. “We can have fun in different ways,” he reminds him. Jeno tilts his head in confusion and Yukhei clarifies, “Appropriate ways.”

Jeno would be incredulous, but he knows Yukhei and though surprising, it’s not shocking that he’s capable of taking this with a bit of humor. “It feels like _you_ are breaking up with me,” Jeno remarks, cautious.

“Oh, dude, it’s _me_ who is breaking up with you,” Yukhei shoots back. And Jeno isn’t going to contradict him, because Yukhei has way more reasons to initiate this goodbye. The haetae distracts Yukhei for a second, and he keeps his mouth half open as though he has forgotten what he was going to add next. “I can keep the haetae, right?”

“Of course! It’s your gift,” Jeno exclaims, horrified at the mere thought of taking it away from Yukhei. There’s endless fondness in how Yukhei observes the creature. “I can make more for you.”

“Dangerous.” Yukhei grins at Jeno’s dumbfounded face. “I’ll hold you to your words.”

 

 

 

 

XX.

Four kisses, yet the fifth is the definitive one.

Jaemin is waiting for him in front of his door, arms crossed and a subtle smile on his lips, an expression that shows that he holds valuable knowledge. It’s a mystery how the news reached him. Probably Yukhei told Donghyuck, and Donghyuck told Renjun, and Renjun told Jaemin. And then Jaemin ran all the way here, considering it’d be the perfect moment because it’s dinner time and the halls are empty. So is Jeno’s room.

Jeno’s heart either freezes or beats so fast that he can’t tell the difference. He shouldn’t be so nervous, but it’s a simple look at Jaemin’s lips and Jeno senses how his legs give up on him. At Jaemin’s best weapon – his smile – Jeno has only one response.

“Did you forget anything here?” Jeno lets his sarcasm slip and walks straight to him, but halts at a safe distance.

Jaemin is unfazed, too content to care about Jeno playing hard to get. “A few things, actually.” He taps his heel against the door, eyes fixed on Jeno, and his tone deepens. “Open that door. This witch has some secrets to tell you.”

It’s hard for Jeno not to drop his keys in that exact moment, but somehow he manages to grip them harder and ignore Jaemin’s inquisitive stare. Even though Jaemin stays silent, Jeno doesn’t need him to talk to know that he’s smiling behind his back.

And Jeno doesn’t believe in that saying about an upcoming storm, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t true. He understands why now: because Jaemin is the storm, and it’s impossible to predict a storm when you’re already in it. And so as Jeno pushes the door open, the calm is over and Jaemin’s hands land on him.

It’s an intentional déjà vu, for Jaemin grabs Jeno and lifts him onto the table, not without trouble. Jeno can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up his throat, happiness blinding any fear because Jaemin hasn’t forgotten, because just like Jeno, he remembers their first kiss to the last detail. Jeno touches down on his own notes, but he couldn’t care less, not as Jaemin draws closer and encircles him, fingers stroking up to his neck.

Jaemin’s eyes glint when they meet Jeno’s gaze; he presses their foreheads together and they laugh, because it’s funny, really funny that they’re about to do this.

“We’re doing it right this time,” is what Jaemin decides.

And, pressing their lips together, is what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over ;;;; I hope you enjoyed it! and that you didn't suffer a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> ayeee
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/renjucas)  
> [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/berryboys)  
> 


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